I may not be the damsel From storybooks galore But that doesn't mean That I can stand alone. Even a strong woman Sometimes needs help. My help has watched me As I grew from a girl Into the woman That he knew I could be. He's soaked up tears, Gloried in smiles, And gently poked fun At my horrible temper. Nothing ruffles his feathers. He's calm as can be. The perfect counter To my violent moods. He knows that I feel everything In savage preportions And manages to temper it With advice and experience Into something that I can use. No, I may not be a damsel But he's still my White Knight.
