The Hero's Dream

Kettles and pots with spoons all lay
Old torn furniture and the broken window
Sandy footprints across the room...
The swaying of the trees sends cool breeze across my face
The sun has gone down
And soon the moon would on top on the sky
The world seems so quiet
The only sound i hear...is the cry of a child; kilometers away
What is wrong?
Everyone seems dead.
But before my mind could believe it is true,
I hear a croaky low voice behind me saying:
'Yes my child it is true'
As i turn around behold an aged woman
Bent, arms wrinkled and ruffled
Her long dirty fingers clenched on staff for help
'What you see is true my child,
This world has changed and everyone is at war
But you my child can changed it and return peace to everyone'.
The cry of the child grows louder and i turn towards its direction
But before i could turn back to the old lady to ask what happened,
'She was gone'.
I never knew what happened but i knew that all was not well.

by uchenna nnodum

Comments (1)

This poem is great! It's a good thing that heroes are born and in the time of peril, they just show up and be the resolution!