Monday, April 20, 2015

Erica Writes Poetry: I hate winter, metaphorically and literally

I wrote this back when it was cold. And the wasps were dead...


The Midwinter Siege

The warning came two days ago, a messenger from the next city
The invader was on its way
We mended parts of the wall that had fallen in with bits of stone and insulation
Stockpiled firewood
Made ready our warmest armor
Then the invader arrived
The first wave was tentative, a test of our will, all bluster and no bite
We fought back hard, and the walls stood
That night the king feasted us in the bright hall.
The second wave took us aback
The walls chipped, the windows of the castle rattled
Our armor was not so useful now
But still we fought, padding ourselves out, smiling despite it all
Then, the invader changed tactics
Snuck in while we slept
The stone and insulation holding up the walls failed
The tapestries torn down
The fire in the hall went out, and all the wood
Exposed and soaked through
The invader lives here now, a constant in our lives
They say it will leave soon, and then all will be well once more
The messenger from the next city sent a second warning
Another invader is on its way

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