Colossus

I stand tall.
Bronze skinned, staring east to the dawn.
The morning comes, over the sea.
The silver sun arrives for me.

Banners wave like a field of wheat.
Warm fresh breezes kiss my cheek.
The birth of summer's heat.

I see ships,
with bright sails.
Oars, gripped by slaves in wooden caves.
The fleet is set for the battle to come,
to fly to the land of the burning sun.

Whips crack.
The drummer raises his arm to the sky.
Silence seen in every eye.

"For Zeus!" cries the captain,
and men shout "Yay!"
Many will see his face this day.
Down comes the hammer.
Oars crash to sea.
They sail at the sun for the glory to be.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.