The Fallen Warrior

The Fallen Warrior

On wind swept plain the warrior lies, snow drifts all around him
The mantle of his sword of truth pointing towards the sky does ask
Where and why did love foresake and lonliness confound him
Her red silk scarf he held so dear, tied to that mantle makes it clear.

When Spring does come they'll find him here, no wounds to be seen
But in his chest as cold as ice a shattered heart they'd find
His arm outstretched with blade in hand, as if to point the way
Just one more hill and valley would have saved this lovers day.

In shallow grave they laid the Knight, his sword of truth a marker
No flowers grow in that barren meadow, darkness it does gather
The only color showing there, that tattered red silk scarf that flies
And on full moon nights the ground it bleeds, the warrior still cries.