Tap, tap, and all steps resound,
Footsteps fed by heat strewn,
Grass blades cower every beat,
Nor daisy bloom under Sun,
Nor did owl give hoot in night,
Ere the kindling fire would crack
All eyes below, nay wings blown,
Buried under feigned smiles drew
Limmicks cool a gaze at scar's form,
Embrossed by linen, leaves and lies,
Left long trails behind; pics never lie.

Late was hour then returned for more,
Yet wept were looting smears in jest,
Could not give pass a plea from hence,
If be worse than blood; makes iron shiver,
Even whilst blurred Sun his arms not feel,
Dare not say what brought him to here,
When looked back; twas either loss afar
Or then it shall be here loss much so near.

When denied a third, prayed was he,
And all eyes buried under his sight:
Bird, deer and hooting owls be fed
The hourly tale this man's struggle
Sewn by mud, yet spilt by blood
Sounded by lightest heart
Is Soul's anew.

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