The Final Journey

Drifting silently across the lake

Morose on board as our Lord lays limp

Around his side gathers maidens so pure

As they bathe the crimson that spills from his wound

The waves lap gently across the bow

As the boat steers slowly but further ahead

Words are not spoken but voices are heard

As news travels fast that Arthur is dead

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4 Responses to “The Final Journey”

  1. oh wow. great poem.

  2. Wicked Pete 🙂

  3. wow. they’re all good but have to say that this is my favourite.
    i’m glad you guided me here.
    i like your writing style

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