Oh, how I miss the glorious fields of battle.
To be entrenched in combat, fending off my foes with sword and shield.
Thrusting my dagger into the flesh
Of cruel warmongers endangering the lives of my people.
To have the cries of my brethren ring in the new dawn.
Eating grapes and singing anthems of our exploits.
Releasing our fallen to Heaven on a pyre of smoke and honor.
To have my favorite paramour
Tending to my wounds…
Alas, how I wish my week had went.
Emails were CC’d, meetings slept through, hope kept alive on a ventilator.
There were no legendary battles
And, more importantly,
[Poem #10 of 30. Image by j.lee43 via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]