Under a clear blue sky
Flags and banners
Flutter in the wind.
Grass is swaying in the breeze,
Crickets are chirping - just an idyll.
But atop all this lies
The hint of death.
Swords clash together,
Halberds meet their targets.
Steeds are whinnying,
Men are shouting.
Death then comes,
Sometimes swift and fast,
Sometimes agonisingly slow.
Amidst all this, a sudden flashing
Of an immensely precious jewel.
Sunrays briefly refract
On this golden circlet;
Then the momentum is gone.
Lonely is its bearer,
Despite all uproar.
Like a blade of grass being scythed
He falls onto the ground.
The golden circlet
Rolls towards a bush.
Richard. Redmore. Rest in peace.

("Richard", Doris Schneider-Coutandin © 2015)