The Prison

As I sit here in this darkened room,
Trapped and awaiting my doom. A Robin,
Sings outside my cell, my thoughts are
No longer grey. It stands upon window sill, kept
Out by iron bars. As I watch it hops along,
A spider now clutched in its bill.
It regards me with a berry black eye,
Then flies without a cry.

Once more the night has come,
And stars are in the sky.
The Robin sleeps and so do I,
Thoughts of death control my mind.
A raven sits upon a broken spear,
Atop a grass covered hill.
Its feathers are as black as coal,
Its brown eyes merged with grey.
Bodies litter the once green grass,
Now stained with the dried blood of men.
Who fought here on this day?
Will I ever know?

I wake from my sleep and dream,
A pale light seeps through the air,
And Robin sits outside my cell,
Upon the window sill.