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I spied him by the road at rest, 
one scarred and marked by battle's test.
He bore great countenance of life,
this ancient warrior worn from strife.
His vestments lay shed 'neath an oak,
thick muscled frame and tunic's cloak.
From sleep, he woke as I walked by,
and marked me with a dense, dark eye.

"Join me," he spoke, then fully rose.
"Find shade and lie here, in repose.
Let me regale of battles massed,
of valiant men, their lives now passed.
Each scar I bear, each strike of blade
I know the time and place was made."
I sat beside his shining brand,
he spoke of those slain by his hand.

My gaze transfixed he fired my dreams
of battles where blood ran like streams.
His gleaming gladius would strike flesh
the sweat and blood of foes to mesh.
His only hope to strike and live,
no quarter drawn and none to give.
While I sat in a trancelike state
he voiced of brave men meeting fate.

At last, he stood and stretched his frame,
and sighing, softly spoke this claim.
"I've died a hundred times from fear,
escaped each mortal blow when near.
These words I'd pray as battle surged
when my own life was nearly purged.
'Grant courage, valor, honor, death.'
A fearful soldier's last deep breath."

"Young man, we've broken our fast here.
The time to rise and depart, near.
You shared our time and listened well,
to tales this time-worn warrior tells."

"Great soldier, where will your road end,
on far flung field, with loyal friend?
Let battle's call now pass you by.
Live on in peace 'til called to die!"

"I'll trek until I find good end.
Now part and call this soldier, friend.
No far flung marsh or battle drum,
I march and seek Elysium!"

                            The Road and the Ancient Soldier
                            11-23-13
                            Rhymed Couplets

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