Haunted. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

22nd February 2013.
Haunted by the wee small hours
Their last nights spent in eerie towers,
Kings and Queens who'd lost their heads,
The chopping block e'er stained blood red.
Tyrants, traitors, one and all,
Usurpers all, but all will fall
Bloody, gory, one severed blow
You could not see, you could not know
The basket waits for heads to roll
A clean cut if you've paid your toll
A sharpened axe, a steady hand
That was, my dear, your last command!

Paul Colvin.