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
battlecry
– Chris George
November 1981
