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It held tightly,
It’s weight heavy on my shoulders,
This second, silvery skin.
My armor on my body,
My mace in hand,
Sword at my side.
My page attaches my helmet
And locks it in place.
War is at hand,
And I’m dressed to die.
It’s a sorcerers war,
And, though fruitless,
The army was called…
Ready to die for their king.
Prepared, I am,
For war, for life, for death.
My life is in His hands.
Dragons scream at the night
As I walk from the castle,
My comrades beside me.
A walking wall of armor we are
Defending the one thing
In which we truly believe…
our freedom.
The End
Copyright February 2001 by Christopher J. Thomasson
