The Muster

By Cliff Lake

 

The Muster

 

The call goes out,

To distant kin

Future in doubt

And war begins.

A foe raving,

An unhinged drive

Our end craving,

We must survive.

The call to muster

Our numbers small

No heart lackluster

We stand or fall.

We gather now,

Both young and old

No qualm allowed,

We must be bold.

The charging steed

The glittering helm

The foe in number

To overwhelm.

The spear is settled,

And sword in hand

A test of mettle

To save the land.

The call of horn

For courage fanned

This brotherhood

And a last stand.

The charge now sounds,

Speaks our mandate.

So forth we ride,

To meet our fate.

No life in thrall

We start our run,

We heed the call,

It has begun.

 

Cliff Lake 8/12/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

Location: Dalton, MA, USA

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