The Huntress

Biding her time, stalking her prey; Knowing that far he can not stray The huntress has readied her bow And just waits for his heart to show She’s set a trap and, once again The hunted bites finding naught within But false hope and the fresh new pain Of another dart’s bright red stain Her aim is true, never missing mark A shot through ear straight to the heart Finding company amongst wounds That haven’t killed but surely doomed Satisfied hunt, the quarry alive For pain is all the archer strives The game stays up and keeps coming The Huntress smiles and keeps gunning Shot after shot from near and afar Each creating a brand new scar Save for the one that sailed over head And only scrambled his brain instead Battered and bruised, not giving ground Wanting to scream, making no sound The hunted feels warm but shivers Waiting for an empty quiver But more missiles fly, tearing flesh Slowly putting out fire in chest That once burned full of amour Now growing colder by the hour She could put end to agony “But where’s the fun in that?” says she So she fires on with bolts of guile At helpless prey, sad, in denial Feathered shafts always boring in ‘Til weathered soul was beaten thin And arrows bounced and couldn’t mark When, Soft warm flesh became cold stone heart