A bubbling cookpot over a fire
Diced meat and roots were stewing
Behind his red-rimmed tired eyes
Dark thoughts and storms were brewing
Back and forth the memories ran
In bleak shadows on his face
Lazy circles of a wooden spoon
Were in the cookpot traced
Screaming echoed in his mind
Those lost being lost again
Mechanically he raised his bowl
And spooned the thick stew in
All he loved was lost now
All his life was bled
Moonlight glinted on cold steel
As he tallied up his lead
Blood for blood he hunted
Through the land he crept
Those he sought would know him
And rue the tears he’d wept
The sun was not yet rising
When he pulled his small camp down
In the predawn chill and grey
He was a wraith without a sound
Coppyright Aarron Mondello
27/7/2018
MyWorldsInWords 