The Last Heir

Beyond the castle juts a pier of stone.
Stand at its basalt peak. Let eyes drift down:
The swirling vapours hide a gulf unknown.
To this abyss, the old king threw the crown.

Those were the days of wealth, and distant war,
But choices still were hard, and rule was pain.
The weary monarch cried at last “No more!”,
Fled duty and the throne, and joined the slain.

But now the war has reached these ancient walls.
The keep is held — by squabbling, shattered men.
Three blood-stained generals eye the royal halls.

Where father leaped, now daughter climbs again.
Above the stones, her parachute spreads wide …

The gates behind her crack; foes storm inside.

Advertisements

One thought on “The Last Heir

  1. jmdwalker says:

    Again loverly prose.
    Written in such a way as to encourage the reader to moderate his speed, enhancing the reverence of the sonet.
    Thanks Edward, keep it up

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s