The Troll

The Troll

He has no name and no sweet smile
His hair is matted and unkempt
He has every reason to hate the world
For the fate that he was sent

His hands are severly mangled
From hard labor and years of war
But he finds beauty in the flower
And the waves that wash the shore

And despite his crude complexion
And the cataract that mars one eye
He sees his own soul within the starlight
That bathes the cold and distant sky

And though is task is often daunting
And beneath his bridge is black as coal
He stands up to arrogant stranger
And collects every toll

They thrust their swords toward him
And with shield, dismiss his hand
They call him cruel and evil
And they spit upon his land

The women mock his appearance
And the men test out his weight
And though his bridge is cold and weathered
He accepts his burdened fate

For men's eyes might radiate arrogance
And a woman's scorn may sway awhile
But he finds the fiercest fire in the sunshine
And the greatest pull in a moonlight mile

And to this day he judges no one
Though he knows not of his own fate
That the road to the house of heaven
Is over his narrow bridge...
    And not through gilded gate