Finding myself in a wasteland
the sky stressed and red
the stones jagged.
I stand protecting my beloved
at my feet her tears flowing,
robes ragged.
My gaze rests steady upon
the hardened legions of evil
that soon in combat I’ll meet.
I drum my sword and my shield-
strength to me but to them the echo
of a haunting, menacing beat.
The beat a hammer and nail once made:
the cadence of our victory,
and the rhythm of their defeat.
William R. Scarrott 