A Cold Winters Morning

• Will Howcroft, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2009

A Cold Winters Morning
The wind was cold,
the grass was soft beneath his leather sandles.
The smell of sweat and blood was in the air,
an eerie smoke hung low over the grassy plains.
The grassy plains where so many good men had lost their lives.
The only difference, is the leader of their people.

The bugel sounded, a long high note.
He woke with a smile,
knowing that he would take many lives,
on this cold winters morning.
He collected his prized sword and left,
to lead his men.

They looked like millions of black bugs,
slowly they moved towards his sea of red.
Then came the sound of a million trapped souls,
the sun was blocked out,
as thousands of arrows rained down on his sea of red.
He did not know if he would live through this Cold Winters Morning.