Faceless

Strange are the things revealed to a stranger,
In cover it opens in rush and speed.
Run from the soothing tickle of danger,
Be vile with the mace and its tempting creed.
And right on the back of a stumbling steed
was a lackey with word for the rabble,
They are warned to desist from the dabble.
Strange and strangely a stranger had appeared,
A silhouette on which they would grapple,
A face they’d never seen, none volunteered.

Leonell