The Blacksmiths Forge

again, something from I made a while ago at home.

A hot fire burning bright,

A man working into the night,

Creating weapons that others use to fight.

 

Hammers striking iron and steel,

Building knives to cut the finest veal,

And blades to slash without feel.

 

Armor to protect and save each life,

In many a strife,

And deflect each coming knife.

 

A fire burning past dawn,

The first thing awake before the faun,

The smith still working without a yawn.

Author's Note

Still don't care what you say about it.

Reviews

[Ceri]

This was a pleasure to read, it sounds particularly good aloud.