Old Soldier

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Old soldier

I hunger for days of yore.

I hunger for the excitement of youth

The crenellations of which I stood on as a young buck

No enemy could escape from my arrow swift and true.

As I now cannot escape from the crenellations I have built in my mind.

I think of the battlefields below a taint with blood

As my heart had become tainted from the lust of the kill

The skill of artifice mine enemies did employed

I am a master of artifice myself, but in self deception

Am I evil to still crave the long sessions deep into the night

As we planned future battles

Our eyes aglow with excitement

Is it wrong that I still hunger for such sport?

The sessions I keep reliving feeds the hunger even now

I sigh as I stand, my old bones creaked

Where to now I ask myself

No children or wife awaited me

No fire burns at the hearth, food stewing there upon

I head for the pub in which raucous laughter pours

A night in the arms of a fair maiden, well paid, would do the trick