The Fallen Men
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Bows ready
They pulled
They reached
The wraiths, in their hundreds slain
Of arms aching
Of pain
The wraiths
In their angst and pain
Took the ones
That suffered again and again
The fallen men
Felt the cold bitter heart
Of their weaknesses
That they could not conquer
Time and time again
They were lost
With the wraiths
We gathered up our dead
The grievous cost
In a company of men
We remember
The day well
Battles won
Thoughts dwell
Of men lost
Heads bowed
We honoured them
Under the dying cloud
Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2009
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