The Battlefield

by Rachel
(North Somerset, England)

I walked slowly out of the
Battlefield.
Seeing only death though my
Moonlit eyes.
With my rusty sword
By my side.

My mouth only tasting blood.
My eyes thirsty for war.
I walk up the stone stairs towards
The village centre. And as if
To cheer me on the rain poured
Down.

I didn’t notice until my sword
was painted with rain drops.
Nothing was cheerful.