Final Pages

Final Pages

Here is my rusted helmet,
this is my broken shield.
You may wonder how I survived it,
what happened on the field.

I believed the king was right,
the rebel leader wrong.
Out of the great battle we fought in,
the minstrel made a song.

I rest now in this chapel,
seems the true place to be.
Say a prayer and think of what happened,
if anyone is free.

It ever was a tangle,
it ever was a mess.
The doctor was right about the wound,
the pain grows less and less.

I loved the woods in summer,
I loved the stars at night.
I was moved by fine words on the page.
Wish I knew which were right.

Now read the final pages
that will complete my tale.
Though mist and shadow lies on my quest,
I know I did not fail.

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