A Dream of Spring

Oh spring, at last, you're nearly here.

And yet I see some cause to fear.

So many dismiss my words of warning,

Yet for me, the signs are clear.

…

The Horde, again, is on the rise,

Banners flap under red skies.

For long these lands have known a peace,

That makes more bloodshed much despised.

…

And in the north, a bitter chill,

Some say the dead no longer still.

A scourge, they say, upon the land,

Death's on the wind, its cries so shrill.

…

And some see above the signs of fire,

Read prophecies, whose words are dire.

Some speak of demons, numbered in legion,

Which against this world, direct their ire.

…

So spring is here, the sun is high.

On the wind echo war cries.

I fear this could be world's last spring,

Before the choice to fight or die.