A/N: Well, here's my second poem. The seed of this was planted around Easter, but it took a few days of lines bouncing around in my head before this came out. Again, I can't even compare to the genius of C. S. Lewis, and therefore would not even DREAM of taking credit for anything of his.

On a cold, dreary hill lies the table of stone.
A dead lion's body, two young girls all alone.
The silence that hangs, the chill in the air
The tears that have fallen from the eyes of the pair

All now seems lost, naught will ever be right,
Hope has gone with the lion, faded into the night.
The two young girls rise, slowly leave from this place
With a dull look in their eyes, a drag in their pace.

Without any warning the ground gives a shake
And a thunder-like peal joins in with the quake
Fear lined on their faces, the two girls look back
And down the ominous table lies a deep, long crack

The table lies broken, and with a grin and a roar,
The Great Lion appears, just as he was before.
He smiles in the light, the girls rush to his side,
He tosses his mane, and stands glorified.

The stone has been shattered, hope has been reborn
For the lion's sacrifice caused the table to be torn.
Now only pieces remain, touched only by the wind's breath
So let them remind us…of love's power over death.