Empty Fields

Over the hill the war torn horses charge
With knights on back and fire in heart
Swift be the blade that strikes weakened hope
Now comes the screams as the blood of men becomes but paint
Lost is the soul to the spear, as death brings but fear
Broken now the bones of youth upon the elders flesh
Sounding the hymns the priest does shout upon deafened ears of earth
The memory of home a shining light upon these fields of darkness
But the hatred of enemy brings but the greyness of thought to these the walking dead
This battle but slaughter as they fight for their king
And fight they do until the ghostly mist entraps the moon
Then from silence the sun does rise and nothing shall capture the gaze of eyes
Except the greenest grass upon empty fields!


By Malcolm.E.Wheeldon
2009-12-29