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Poem

The night is cold
There is an owl perched on the gum tree
Its pitch dark outside
Its silent as a grave yard
She clings unto herself
Her mind wonders away
she reminisces her husband
pulling her into his chest
Fitting into his embrace
Like she belonged there
She lifts up her head
Staring into his blue eyes
Eyes that are so reassuring
Filled with love
Eyes that seem to promise eternity.

Then one fine morning
She sat down on a mat
Closer to the rugged gate
Winnowing wheat 
Singing ‘the song of the great warrior’

From the North
The Kingdom of the mighty King Xerxes
And the elusive enchantress Lucia
Came a great warrior by the name Attila
By his sword tens of thousands were slain
By his arrows thousands lay on the battle field
All hail the great warrior!
All hail the mighty King!

Then a man came up to the rugged gate
Walking with a slight limp
Wearing an old  tattered uniform
His visage looking weary
His eyes shinning bright as the sun
And from his lips came a soothing song

‘praise be to the Mighty God of the universe
The giver of life to the wretched
the lord of great knowledge
the provider of sustenance in due season
all honor be to the great King of the earth
and the master of the heavens'

She looked up to see a frail man
The warrior she adored
The man she loved and kept in his heart
For whom she waited 
For whom she prayed 
She ran and fell into his arms
She sang the song of joy
For love and peace at last

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