Day Of Death

• Steven Craig, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2016

The night was dark and still,
The moon was filled with blood,
The adventure had begun.
It started in the morning and finished in the night,
The king and his men shot him down.
The old rebel died.
The trees howled like crying wolves.
When the word travelled fast,
Soon a riot filled the countryside.
Men with pitchforks and shovels were hunting like wolves,
For there was only one prize,
The King’s head.