by pete marshall
Into the valley rode the 600
carrying the hope of all who came.
Blues would swirl on banners high,
drums would pound to beat their name.
Whistles blew as cries were heard
midst screams of man, their thumping hooves.
Flesh would sweat 'mongst blood & dirt,
defiant yells the charge let loose.
Tender years too young for war,
fought as one despite their pain.
With gritted teeth they battled on
to take the prize and win the game?
Those of you who know me on twitter, @petemarshall1, will be aware that I manage an under 10's soccer team. This Sunday, a win will see them win the league.
Today's poem, The Blues, is for them, who have fought so hard this season and are on the brink of winning their first ever trophy.
This poem is also for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, which opens tonight at 10pm, UK time (5pm EST). If you love poetry, whether reading or writing then stop by and take a look.
image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/syder/