I think about you with words
That often ride storm swift
Like elfin Lords on wind-light steeds
With harnesses of squeaking leather soaked
In lathered sweat and armor chiming
The sound of battle climbing
With clang and clash of sword and thrust of lance
With bash and crash of mace and battle ax
That tear the flesh from feral souls
And then with capes and plumage
Streaming out in the whistling wind
They all race off into the distance
Hoof-beats ringing on the stone
Echoing back through the high-walled chambers
Of my mind