He may never see the weeping willow
or the river he loved by his
small cottage again
but for now,
at least he was still alive.
After being dragged through the mud
beaten and covered in blood
this night would leave a stain
on his memory forever.
On his hands and knees
he broke more than one nail
on the unforgiving sharp edged stones
as he finally reached the tops of the bluffs
where, far below
the pirates vessels were
being made ready to set sail.
© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved
Shared with The Sunday whirl #60