Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash
Skin like granite, and a call like thunder
Men and missiles rend ramparts asunder
A battlefield strewn with dead and dying
Carrion-sown fields host crows a-flying
But then comes the horn and a flag of truce
The gates let open and their hosts come loose
And speak gentle words of peace and of soothe
---
The duke in red sees his men in the muck
He won the day, though he pyrrhic in luck
He weeps a tear for the slain and the earth
As the duke in blue rides in unearn'd mirth
The foes meet between, the scene of the fight
One duke leans in close, as soon as he might
To seal peace's kiss with steel's harden'd bite.
Comments (1)
Excellent storytelling through fabulous descriptive writing! Excellent Ian!