Yet another Troy

18:44 Unknown 1 Comments

Yet another Troy

You gave to me a wooden horse
No skin of steel, no men inside;
a children’s toy that in due course
would lose its magical delight.

The day has come to join the force,
and to the battlefield we stride
with all we have: the grave remorse
that here we rock where we should ride.

Why this ridicule, this pitiful defeat?
A friend has turned into a mole.
Hear, there speaks your dying steed:

“You had no chance, my little foal.
That’s why he sent his finest breed
but not to combat; to console.”