The Old Storyteller
The stories you heard at your mother’s knee,
That spoke of fierce dragons and fair chivalry,
And monsters who stalked your childhood dreams,
As you trembled at bedtime hour.
And though you knew the tales weren’t real,
The truth behind the myths you’d feel.
Forgotten events of the past revealed,
As you learned that words have power.
There once was a Sheriff, upstanding and wise.
The Hammer of Justice, despiser of lies.
He bravely walked through the battle lines,
To speak under truce with the enemy.
But when he stood before his host,
He drew his sword and broke his trust.
His life in that hour he should have lost,
But was spared by his gracious adversary.
A royal throne abandoned lay,
The kingdom was rapidly losing its way,
‘Till a servant, hearing the peoples pain
Stepped up to restore peace and reason.
Unused to rule she struggled alone,
Until the Queen at last came home.
The servant handed back the throne,
And was executed for treason.
A twisted mind with a murdering hand
Wreaked havoc and grief all across the land,
Her people to cowardly to take a strong stand
Took the easier option and exiled her.
Unchecked she roamed from place to place,
Her evil mind hidden behind a fair face,
A threat that her nation refused to erase,
As they quietly washed their hands of her.
Next time you hear a tale of old,
I pray that you’ll wonder why it’s being told.
Remember the tales can be twisted round
By the skill of the old Storyteller.
Not all you hear is always true,
To find the facts is down to you.
Listen to the tales anew,
And beware of the old Storyteller.
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Helena Shepherd)