the lights shut off
one by one
till the world is only moonlight and shadows
and the crowds of humanity withdraw
taking with them tucked in pocket
the echoes of yesterdays
and the quiet promises of today

into this field littered by the passing night
the gypsy's of the street
comb through for the treasured trinkets
and cast coin
passing me without a waiting word
as i sit in the grass by the skeleton of the stage
watching a distant torch flicker in the trees
as the priestess of death makes her bed
among the graves

down by the river
down where she lay me down to ease the fever
where she sat all night
while the grand empire played out its death throes
so near at hand the light of the pillage was bright
and cannon shot rolled like
thunder till  the ugly face of first light
introduced itself like a cruel feildboss
to these pickers of the fruits of wars labours

she had stayed with me till danger had passed
till fevers delirium had parted
from me wearing his skeletal remains and scythe
leaving me shivering in her comforting arms
but as my mind cleared
as the chill fog of war slipped away
i realized i had been
alone all night with naught but the dark
and the burnt skeleton
of my yesterdays
in a cold northern wood