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A poem by my Sister
20:49 Nov 11 2007
Times Read: 673




"An Warriors Edge"



Black and red paint splashed across his face

as though it holds a story of war.

He defeated his own conspiracy

now standing a legend wanting more.

He is now a brave warrior

that has seen every side of down.

His mission of honest courage

made his blood red and skin a bit brown.

This once was his play ground

where he had his own dreams.

Where his blood ran in the river

and nourished by the streams.

His bravery is marked by history

and his stories graved in stone.

Where his people once died

but relived by the grown.

He seems to live on, his spirit never dies

You can see his dance in the wind

and hear his songs when an eagle cries.