The Champion
Dawn breaks, the champion wakes,
readies himself for whatever awaits
for him in the course of this bright sunny day
he does not know it will not stay.
Attatches his sword, and hops on his horse,
ready to confront evil with unstopable force.
Rides south to the shore and the wild rough seas,
and a foul tasting smell tainting the breeze.
Arrives at the mouth of a deep damp dark cave,
for someone to enter they must have been brave.
Brave’s what he was for a champion was he
but it wasn’t something you chose to be.
Fate picked him as soon as his lungs filled with air,
no chance to protest - fate did not care.
As our chamion treads lightly over the stone,
fighting for his land and his home.
Sees his enemy, set in his sight
and with a great battle cry - begins the fight.
Many parries and dodges and slashes ensue,
waiting for the time to undo
their enemy down from their head to their toe.
One false move and his blood shall then flow.
The battle is over, the champion has won,
but the real victor is none,
for the many hard battles over all of the years
and having to go on facing too many fears
have taken their dreadful and deadly toll,
but now he’s acheived his most ultimate goal.
As he lies on the floor - although writhing in pain -
his main focus is on what he soon will gain.
All through his life he’s had to be best
and now that it ends, he may finaly rest.
~Peter T.B.~
