Guardians

Lost in the echoes of a memory,
Sixty soldiers remain guarding a grave,
Standing in silence it for eternity,
protecting a king the rest of his days.

Ghosts of a kingdom that’s crumbled away,
Buried in darkness by the sands of time,
Many names all forgotten but still they stay,
Their soul coming to life inside my rhyme.

Fifty lost solider in four even rows
slowly start fading as the poem ends,
Still wearing their armor from head to toe,
Gone to the darkness from which they begin.