The Lost Regiment

Close your eyes, it will be over soon.
On a field of white, with streaks of blue,
Cast in ghastly gloom by the placid moon,
The mind races to deliver the soldiers due.

On the ivory shield the azure sword inscribe,
“History this, philosophy that”.
The battle is easily won if we merely describe,
But the miser Prodigy kept his muse, he refused to let.

On the field of white, the army assembled.
Discarding board for sword-
Defence is futile now they’re enfeebled.
Surviving alone won’t win the elegant horde.

The clanking of steel roams the air,
As the soldiers charge down the despot’s land.
Thunder raged in the night sky that’s fair
The soldiers become more confused with each stroke of their master's hand.

Close your eyes, it will be over soon.
On a field of white, with streaks of blue.
The bewildered soldiers now marooned
By their incompetent master, they’re left astray
To wander in yonder, in the field of white with streaks of blue, without a clue.