Epic
‘Tis their chase littered with unending corpses
‘Tis a dogged race with the savages of Norse’s
I’ve slain them again and again
Still their shadows circle us from bloody skies
Fire breathing dragons like Satan’s kites
Fragrance of jasmine from her lovely tresses
Mixes odours with the rotting carcasses
Her warm breath behind my neck
Holding me tight, her lips part ways
Fear not, I comfort with resolute gaze
A deranged one dives with burning eyes
Unsheathing the sword over the precipice
Life plays a ghastly roll of the dice
A swift evasion and a mighty sweep
A dismembered head shrieks over the heap
On the handle of my sword my fingers tightened
She held me tight, lithe arms wrapped from behind
Her lovely countenance rests lightly on me
My palm placed on hers, my mind easen
My steed gallops gently towards the horizon
