The Dead of Winter

                     Dan Nielsen
                     [dnielsen@conpoint.com]

                     Alas,
                     before me lie the twisted figures of friend and foe
                     the mists blanket the frozen ground
                     a bloody shroud of Celtic snow

                     Sharpened blades of ax and sword
                     glint mournfully beneath the rising sun
                     silence reigns amidst the death and I find that I am the only one
                     left alive...
                     I survived...

                     The wind begins to blow the mists
                     like shades across the icy ground
                     Where is this victory we were promised
                     'tis only tragedy I found
                     my friends and allies my brothers-in-arms
                     where do I begin to find the heart?
                     To leave you here for eternity
                     and they say that wars the art?

                     Your blooded armor and gore slicked blades
                     do no justice to your end
                     clutching ravaged shields in rigored hands
                     tis the last message you can send
                     Stiffened leather and battered helms
                     how many men does it take to defend
                     a realm?

                     Do not think my weak my friends
                     for the tears I shed are yours
                     shed for your stolen lives and purloined dreams
                     and the fates that brought you to this war

                     May the cold winds keep to my back
                     as I leave you all behind
                     Sleep in peace ye dead of winter
                     and pray peace is what I find




© 1998 Dan Nielsen, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission