He grew weary
From more of the same
As misfortune carries him
With a serenade of shame

Enthralled by squandered youth
Was his daily curse and dismay
Set fire to his distant yearnings
While his present, tatters and frays

The oaks of old
Still retain forgotten delights
Tall and vast as they’ve always been
Ever stern against looming frights

A treasured stride long ago
Of lumbering valor to and fro
Hoist your piety proud and high
And linger patient for the wild’s giving cry

In controlled mayhem
He softly prowled
Bound to the reign of spring
And the flutter of anxious fowls

He wove through the pastures
Through cavern, glade and stream
To slay the rolling beast
The prize of his hungry dreams

A treasured stride long ago
Of lumbering valor, to and fro
Hoist your piety proud and high
And linger patient for the wild’s giving cry

So fortune neared
Stouthearted and full
Unknowing of the game
And its foul and twisted rule

A thundering flash
Ripped through the quaint bushes
As the doe hobbled on
Fearful and scathed

A second blast
Rippled across tranquility
As the prize stirred in agony
Gushing to her very last
Her flesh coated in gore
As her body wanes and stirs no more

His pride crumbles
Stricken by the motherless fawn
Cut down by iron innovation
The chief of man’s bloodied dawn

Remorse strangles
With ghostly stealth
Coveting the cold hunter
And his swiftly failing health

It was all for not
This murderous crusade
As he trudges homeward
His pillaging urges swayed

“Let motherhood rest”
The calming code he hails
“For what once was can never be
It is a quest, I’d rather have failed”