[mousepoet]: 243.mousey's Poetry.Wounded Pride

My entry to the iambic pentameter thingy. :) My hopes are not at all high, but it looks so sad with only three entrants.

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A staff that rests upon a graven stone.
A boy that sits upon these hills, alone.
The shepherd child resolves himself to fight
To prove himself a man so newly grown.

Within the shepherd’s chest, a heart of gold.
Within the wall of stone, his rightful fold.
Beside the stream of green, the lion’s eye,
And in the shepherd’s eye, a gleam so bold.

The hand, it grasps! He thrusts it to the wood.
The staff, it swings! He hardens to the blood.
In tawny flight, the lion swift retreats
And leaves behind the greatest thing it could.

The boy has won! He laughs in triumph clear
And does not see the danger creeping near,
For when a lion lone is in defeat,
Beware, a wounded pride will soon appear.