Warrior

As he stood before an open field Which once had been divided Arms too tired to raise his shield Or the sword he was provided… Leather straps across his back All soaked in his own blood Slowly change from brown to black As dead men lay in flood… Some of them were honest men But had no choice to fight For power never wield by them By those imposing might… But what about the child he sees Abandoned in the distance The son of his dead enemy Who’d kill him in an instant… But the warrior takes his hand And dressed it with his ring So he would oneday claim the land That was stolen by his king…