The winds of chill, echo eerily;
Carrying, distant screams of dying steeds;
Horns, blow in the night's deathly moans,
warriors arise, and watch the battle's
finale with sorrow;They, who gave their all
watch on, as in silent approval; As ladies fair
strive for the triumph, that should have been
their lovers all.
Drums, beat out the marching steps of dread;
Pipers, pipe their last laments recording
battles lost, soldiers bloodied youth take
their hopes and desires to the grave with
pride; Not so, their wives and children rise
and rush forward to their ultimate sacrifice;
Fading, sounds disperse through the trees
as one and all lie dead and dying; A hand
reaches out to gentle his mare of many
years, she, like him, have perished but
through legend will remain forever..............
Adding your comment:
Glad you liked this write , many thanks for your kind words 
Woh, Lynne!!! 
Wanda
I have changed Silence for Moans 
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