The Red Knight

My story begins as all good writers write:
Once upon a time, on one dark, stormy night. 
There was a tall, tall castle on a tall, tall hill. 
The wind was howling, and it carried a chill. 
And up, up, up in the tallest tall tower, 
There sat a princess with a perfect white flower. 
The blossom was dainty and shined like a crown;
The only white flower for miles around.
The flower was stolen from a forbidden field
That was heavily guarded and highly concealed.
This flower, a gift from the handsome Red Knight,
Was her only companion and gave her delight. 
The flower promised of her dear lover’s return,
So she held it softly and showed her concern.
                   .
The Red Knight was striking; a good friend of mine.
He was valiant, wealthy, well built and divine.
His shield was glowing and, on top of his head,
There was a large feather of bright, crimson red.
Nobody knew why that feather flew there,
But it was large and magnificent. None could compare.
                   ..
He quested for victory against a horrible beast
That was wanted for the horrible howls it released.
The racket leaked out of a terrible place.
A cavern nearby was the clamor’s home base.
Nobody could tell him just what to expect
For nobody ever saw their strident subject.
Rumors flew of a repulsive creature
With sharp, ragged claws, and hideous features.
It might be a witch with her potions and tricks
Or a hairy werewolf all covered in ticks.
Still others would talk of a bloodthirsty spirit
Whose screeches brought death to whoever could hear it.
                   ...
The Red Knight departed, prepared for the worst,
As thunder clawed out of the clouds with a burst.
The Red Knight unsaddled and showed he was brave
Until a bellowing sound came out of the cave. 
But the knight was not frayed by noise that was thrown.
A noise that would chill most knights to the bone.
His frightened steed fled and only he then remained. 
The clouds above darkened, and harder it rained.
It was raining so hard that the knight finally decided
To use the cave as the shelter it so well provided.
The cave was gloomy, depressing, unkind.
Something approached him from directly behind. 
A flash of lightning and the knight turned around
And suddenly found himself flung to the ground. 
In the shadowy haze the knight had concluded
That perhaps it was bad that he had intruded.
With another flash the knight looked up and saw
A monster that made him recoil in awe.
With large dripping fangs and huge glaring eyes,
‘Twas a dragon that gave our knight the surprise.
The cold lizard beast loomed over his prey
When a small, weeping boy came out from the gray. 
                   ....
The beast leaned down closer and in a dry, harsh voice said,
“Do me a favor and I won’t eat your head.”
The Red Knight nodded and the dragon proceeded,
“This kid wails too much.  This noise is unneeded.
I can’t kill the child and he won’t go away. 
Make him shut up or it be you who will pay!”
The knight approached the boy and started by trying,
“Is there anything that would make you stop crying?”
But the boy did not answer, and he didn’t withhold
So the knight reached out and showed him some gold.
When that didn’t work, a funny story he spun
Of a farmer whose chickens were afraid of the sun.
For hours this contest ran on without peace.
It seemed that nothing could make the boy cease.
When he ran out of options the knight asked once more,
“What is it that is making your heart quite so sore?”
The child looked up and relented his mew.
“There is only one thing and I’ll tell it to you. 
Here is the reason for all my commotion
My mother was cursed by a grim witch’s potion
She was sent to a field behind a tall, tall hill.
Can you answer me this, sir: is my mother there still?”
“What is it that happened with the witch’s brew’s power?”
“Why, that witch turned my mum into a most perfect white flower.”
                   .....
With that the knight cringed, and he thought of his wife. 
The present he gave her took another bride’s life.
A small, useless flower that no one would dwell
Was not quite as worthless as the knight could now tell.
For what may seem so small that it’s all right to take
May still be important for somebody’s sake.
So the knight shared the news with the distraught little lad
Of the flower he plucked for the woman he had.
With this news and some silence the boy did repent,
“If you eat the Red Knight then I’ll stop my lament!”
                   ......
My story is that, and the truth to be told,
A perfect white flower was more precious than gold.
A moral in this tragic tale exists,
If you learn one thing here, then let it be this:
                   .
Don’t take what’s not yours, unless it’s suggested,
Lest it be you who doth end up digested.