Broken wheel at side of road
Knows not which way it's meant to go.
Spokes of iron, a rim of gold,
No horse shall tow it home, I'm told.

But there's a chance in this man's pocket,
A chisel clinks with a measly wallet.
He breaks hope, now there's none left,
For he only takes it's golden crest.

Man stands up without saying a word.
Wheel is crying but cannot be heard.
Gold has gone, only iron now,
Too heavy to carry for the man's poor cow.

So chisel and man wander away
Saddened, wheel wishes some attention is paid.
To a last defense in time gone past,
A master he failed, still calling: “Stand fast!”

The stars above shine once more,
A thousand laters, wheel knows the score.
But it still hopes to join them soon,
It's master and their golden troops.

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Author guidance for This poem

Poems of war from a different kind of viewpoint, as long as a poem fits that criteria it can be added here.

~Cura :)

updated Jul 9 '11 by CurasiTayo