Stories told by men have stayed,
Faces wrinkled,hair greyed
Yet till this day has lived this tale
Immortal values have’nt frayed

There was an young lad on a stroll
He crossed a few men walking by
Lionheart he would come to be
He saw ill and he had to try

A little boy dumped in the sea
Pushing like a drowning bee
Though he knew not how to swim
Still he ran to help him be

In seconds passe’ he soaked himself
Life and death was on the brim
Breath had never felt so scarce
His own life was on the trim

And before we knew it , a kid was raised,
Panting from a crying sea
The hand which raised the second life
Was played by fate’s symphony

Did he know that he could end?
If he did; would he have jumped?
Sure he did my heart would rhyme
his values made him have a say

In this tale he blinks at soul
Thus he walked lionheart’s way.