“The Warrior” (Heather Nield)
2008
The warrior felt the soft mud on his cheek
The battle not over yet he excepted defeat
The horses all pranced, bucked and neighed
The sun was drowning, the light began to fade
Victory cries weren’t all he heard
Small footsteps approached which seemed so absurd
Tiny warm hands covered his eyes
A feeling so distant, the memory, he cried
A weak voice did whisper for him to get up
His heart beat faster, his blood ran so thick not unlike syrup
The hand reached down and placed it in his
The tug only meant that this child wanted him to live
His lids slightly opened and he saw such blue eyes
He saw only love, he was content to die
