Yonder I see a desolate battlefield,
The frozen bones of these warriors
In a distant past still fully concealed
Graves crossing the time barriers.
In ceaseless killings they found joy;
Not the heroes of our bedtime stories
Fooled in a battle by a frantic decoy,
Here they died , none sang glories.
None came for sights or pilgrimage
Even the looters left without plunder
Could still see the preserved cartridge
I wonder if there were more bodies under.
My mind struggles to forget this scene
Yonder, saw bodies sprouting gean.
YOU ARE READING
Winter Has Come
PoesíaWhen strange things happen all over the world, we say Winter Has Come.
