By the sound of the trumpet

by the sound of the trumpet

I find myself dashing off again

lost in the bloody field of romance

but with one difference


this battle is being fought at noon

and the maiden that awaits my return

does so in a lighted chamber where

the candles illuminate from her locks

a welcoming sunshine that comforts

battle-wearied, blood stained souls.


so I’ve dashed off with you in mind

can’t you hear the trumpets blare my



– Chris George 

November 1981  

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