Lonely Knight

He stood on the windswept battlefield,
All alone his senses reeled,
The Knight wiped his sword on the grass,
Around him fallen comrades lay,
The end of a bitter, bloody day,

His heart felt heavy, laden,
He missed his fair maiden,
They'd often made love in the field,
The war had called him to arms,
Away from her feminine charms,

He leaned against a mighty oak,
To his gods he silently spoke,
Weary bones his only reward,
For living his life by the sword