Two dusty and Footsore Bards

Two dusty and Footsore Bards

two dusty and footsore bards

in robes faded and torn

came upon a village

one cold and frosty morn...

their eyes were tired yet wary 

from  horrors

they would never forget

as they led a weary donkey

who walked with plodding step...

the older of the two staggered

 in a stumbling shuffle

as if injured or sick

and they carried sharpened pikestaffs

rather than journeyers stick...

the younger seemed wounded

a limp slowed him down

as they slowly made their way

into the mountain town...

the villagers came out to greet them

strong arms offered them support

as the village elder pressed them

to offer their report ...

in tired and weary tones

the bards told of all they saw

they spoke of fire and blood

and stench of embittered war...

we've walked many a long and tiresome path

to reach this haven of peace at last

and still we fear war's ruthless tide

we fear there is nowhere left to hide...

but the bards brought a timely warning

and as the villagers  prepared for the worst

the weary bards finally rested

by the warm and peaceful hearth;

sharonlee©