Woolen Mane

She was a sinner, not a savoir

And the lambs clothing felt too tight

But in the bowels of the nether

The lion was in sight

And as separate as they’d always seemed

They were truly in the same

For as sharp as the lions claws

Were the lamb’s hooves’ tame

And as the phrases have common said

Opposites attract,

But when she stood in the mirror’s bend

She saw both intact

For the lion did not fall in love

With Mary’s childhood friend

He was simply stitched together

Half lamb, half lion, one end