I lost many a knight
and maiden fair
To your swift approach
and patient care
must you empty my kingdom
of patriarchs and saints

taken too soon,
too early,
or sometimes even too late

captured too young,
in their prime,
or after suffering too long

the loved
the devoted
missed and yearned for

You reap my reality
And leave nothing behind
but memories for me to sow
my garden is fading
and the castle is bare
yet the dungeon is overcrowding
with the lives you chose not to spare

And I take it you must look gallant
On your pale horse riding tall
For they never fight or deny you
When you come to call

Maybe peace cloaks you
And heaven is your scythe
For even my brother rode with you
While lying in the street

For 'Matthew Joseph Williams'