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marsha-singhPoems
There was no battle cry or first shot fired. The clip clip of doom's hooves was far away and I never felt its hot breath on my neck—                I never felt its hot breath on my neck You weren't my enemy. I loved you but he thump thump of love's drum was far away and I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched—                I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched.
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Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 3:51 PM UTC
Another Casualty of the Cold Months
There was no battle cry or first shot fired. The clip clip of doom's hooves was far away and I never felt its hot breath on my neck—                I never felt its hot breath on my neck You weren't my enemy. I loved you but he thump thump of love's drum was far away and I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched—                I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched.
marsha-singh
Written by
marsha-singh
American
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 3:51 PM UTC
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