The Thief

In the valiant glory of the city of Rome
There walks, in gentle strides, a noble for his home
Cloaked in scarlet robes lined with pockets chiming loud
He turns between two buildings from the safety of the crowd
A peripheral catch of the reflection of his path
Two swirling green rings train to the center of his back
Overhead, a black hawk circles, in sense
Waiting in silence for the deed to commence
A flash, pacing on the breadth of a stare
Into the alley for the wellborn, readily unaware

Born of blacksmith and nimble built
An iron clasp on a steel-forged hilt
His tattered mane heedlessly grown
A rugged face that time hath sown
With vulture eyes encircled in sleeplessness
Prying at the heart of the shadows, insidious
Advancing on a soundless shroud closer to the prey
Pauses, hidden, observant of the fray
Unsheathes the extent of his hand
And approaches with intent for the man

Raising to the sky the dagger retribution made
Descending down between the shoulder blades
He falls forth in a quiet demise
Away with the wind, the black bird flies
Knelt down, hands sifting for gold
And sheltering it in pocket folds
Warm blood feeds the feeble soil
From that cold December royal
Shifting back to the merchant streets
To the draw of his future feats



This was a poem I wrote in a short period of time for an English assignment. I hope you all enjoy.