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He paced...and paced...and paced some more,
Then he stopped and stared at the large, wooden door.
He knew the decision must be made,
He knew this day could not be stayed.

A mighty knight, brave and true,
Who even slew a dragon or two,
Who boldly fought on the battlefield,
Who, to the enemy, he would not yield.

Fierce and sure and quick of mind,
A stronger man you'd never find.
From his men, he commands respect-
Nothing less would he expect.

Yet this day, he remains secluded.
Why has every one he eluded?
What causes him to pace alone?
What could cause this man to groan?

He turns toward the old oak door;
To his Holy Father, he does implore
To be given strength for what he must do,
To be sure he makes it through.

With trembling hand he grasps the latch.
Could it be he's met his match?
One last breath to steady his nerves,
Is this more than he deserves?

When finally the door swings open wide,
His churned emotions he does hide.
The castle folk, all standing there;
His heart pounds as he feels their stare.

His squire scurries beside his lord,
Whose duty no longer can be ignored.
With a smile, his squire clearly states,
"Milord, your lady in the chapel waits."