Memories of the Viking

I stood upon the hill and closed my eyes, And listened to the sound of wind and rain; My face and hair were wet, my body chilled, And then I sensed the presence of the Dane. I turned around and saw him watching me, And rooted to the spot, I forced a smile - Although, the hairs were rising on my neck - As motionless, he watched me all the while. He wore a helmet, held an axe and shield, A giant man, with flaxen beard and hair, The face was hard, his eyes were cold and blue - I can’t describe the menace in his stare. It seemed like hours; I stared into that face, And all the while, consumed by fearful dread; I knew he meant me harm but couldn’t move - Oh yes, I would have turned around and fled. The booming thunder seemed to break the spell; He glowed - then disappeared, as lightning flashed; Though sceptics laugh and say I’d drank too much, I’d found the place the Viking’s gold was stashed!