The Huntsman and His Peregrine

The huntsman and his peregrine Woods was all his belongings The huntsman's only pride and his holy livelihood Flew an injured peregrine to his land one evening Her quill feathers perfumed of mountains and coastal She was somebody or someone of a kind like peregrine species of grass He beholds an earnest affection for this creature Full of dotes well up inside her injuries and wounds One dawn when sun rises and it's scorching rays erased everything into ashes ... 'His love for her Her faith on him' And the woods inscribed- Her blood of despair Her thirst for life Her soul sheds tears miserably But the huntsman owes no mercy to his once beloved peregrine Pain was all Pain is all Pain shall be Isn't this Pain, how can be composed of such tinsy four letters word Isn't this Pain, more hungry and greed for massive depth inside the broken soul Isn't this Pain, stands injustice to the medicine called painkillers doses Isn't this Pain, a tryst with life each breathe and those wounds just spiced up again! The huntsman or my beloved man; His peregrine or I was his beloved (once)!