Fierce had been the battle,
Over land or for glory he cannot remember now.
Wincing in pain from the arrow that had pierced his side,
He crawls toward his King.
He hears the cries from the wounded and dying,
Both his comrades and his enemies.
Always the loyal Knight, his liege had fallen.
A dark stillness surrounds him,
Almost comforting.

His thoughts turned to home,
A place in time almost forgotten,
Amidst the carnage of war.
A beautiful wife and loving son.
He sees her waving and calling to him,
Please come home.

Fields of grain,
Yellow in the sun untended.
Almost harvest time, yes.
He has been away so long.
He calls her name,
Catherine, my true love.

She beckons home again,
He reaches to once more touch her loving face,
As he slips away to another place.

©2015 Walt Hardester