Sonnet #4 (Winter of 1680)
Around the camp of soldiers wide and thin
A voice that whispers through the forest floor
In angst one boy wakes up as it begins
And as he hears it’s sound, it is no more.
A pounding and a thrashing wakes them all
But slow receding as it did before
Again what comes when Fairy Nymphs enthrall
To lift a veil of ignorance and gore
They stand with open arms outstretched to him
The milky pale of skin against the night
The boy does want to kiss the maidens few
But quick as come, they fly away in fright
One boy is still, and shivers in the cold
And waits to see them till he turneth old.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry