Have you heard the story about the lion of the glen?
The last of a pride, chased away by men.
North of the falls, down the valley, deep in the woods,
Under the life tree, beyond ancient roots, where it lapped at the water, tired, alone, and misunderstood.
The last of a pride, the blue lion-dog of the glen.
A young boy stood, gazing out towards the sea,
Bathed in morning light, wrapped in peaceful tranquility.
A faint yawn drifted across the breeze,
“What’s that sound?” he wondered, “Did it come from the trees?”
A yawn, not quite a roar—a sound both grand and odd,
Echoing through the woods, a lion’s call with a playful nod.
The boy turned towards the woods, his heart drawn near,
Compelled by curiosity, not touched by fear.
He stepped into the shadows, where sunlight played,
Following the sound through the forest’s glade.
As he ventured deeper, the yawn grew near,
A mix of a lion’s power and a dog’s cheer.
In a secret glen, where sunlight streams met,
He saw the lion-dog, its coat a stunning blue set.
Its mane shimmered like a twilight hue,
Eyes glowing with wisdom, old yet new.
But as the boy approached, he paused in surprise
The lion’s roar ended in a bark that rose to the skies.
“Are you the lion of the glen?” the young boy asked,
His voice a whisper, in awe of the task.
The lion nodded, its form aglow,
And from its throat came a sound, both soft and low.
A bark that spoke of ancient times,
Of magic, wonder, and forgotten rhymes.
“I am the last,” the lion seemed to say,
“Of a pride long gone, but I remain today.”
The boy’s fear melted, replaced with delight,
As the lion-dog’s presence felt so right.
Together they wandered, through woods deep and grand,
A boy and a lion-dog, hand in paw, across the land.
But danger lurked, as shadows grew long,
For hunters sought the lion, driven by a song.
A song of greed, of magic to claim,
To capture the lion-dog and bind its flame.
The boy and the lion, close as could be,
Felt the threat growing beneath the canopy.
The hunters advanced, with spears held tight,
Their hearts darkened, devoid of light.
As they closed in, the boy stood brave,
Determined to protect the friend he’d come to crave.
A spear flew fast, aimed true and dire,
But the boy leapt forward, fueled by a fire.
He shielded the lion with his own small frame,
And the spear struck home, igniting pain like a flame.
He fell to the ground, his strength fading away,
But the lion roared—a bark, both fierce and fey.
With a flash of blue, the lion’s magic awoke,
The air shimmered, and the world spoke.
The hunters froze, their weapons turned to dust,
As the lion’s power surged, a force to trust.
The lion bent low, its breath warm and kind,
And licked the boy’s wound, with magic intertwined.
The boy’s pain faded, his wound healed fast,
As the lion-dog’s magic made him whole at last.
The boy looked up, with awe in his gaze,
“Thank you,” he whispered, lost in the haze.
But the lion, with a knowing, gentle smile,
Began to fade, retreating a while.
Its form dissolved into the morning light,
Leaving behind a world, once again bright.
The blue lion-dog, with its heart of stone,
Returned to the earth, where magic is sown.
The boy was left, whole and unbroken,
With a memory of magic, a silent token.
He knew that one day, they would meet again,
In the land of the glen, where the lion-dog’s spirit would reign.
Have you heard the story about the lion of the glen?
The last of a pride, chased away by men.
But in the heart of a boy, that lion remains,
In a bond forged in magic, beyond earthly chains.
The blue lion-dog, with its bark and its roar,
Lives on in the glen, forever more.