Walking down a lonely road
a weary young soldier went.
His head bent low, his expression grim,
his chivalrous spirit spent.
Gone were the days of playful laughter,
days of youthful vigor forgotten.
Gone was the dream of life ever after,
a fruit that had been so sweet, now rotten.
His gallant white steed now dirty and weak,
sorrow clung to him like grime and sweat.
Posture slumped and emotions bleak,
down that lonely road he went.
Wanting the light to set him free,
he limped to the church below.
His soul in pain, in agony,
his search for solace amongst the sorrow.
Written and Revised by: Mercy B. Luis