Tightly Grasps His Soul
He that walks most tall amongst men
amongst men has the furthest to fall,
when in ancient times in yonder Scar Ghyll
brazen stood the hanging tree
without redundancy.
The morning had not yet spoken
waits upon sunrise, natures trill,
only one man there stands broken
facing the north wind’s icy chill,
a storm cloud rolls in
the preacher reads the last rites
talks of redemption
this illusion stabs the mind
the noose tightly grasps his soul.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
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