4 views
At Björn Ironside's Grave
A thousand years
he's slept on this hill,
Only the sound of the birds
to keep him company.
Such a humble grave
for a king,
Yet they love him still.
Every year,
The Swedes make
the pilgrimage,
Offering coins and swords
as tokens.
In the hush that follows
the summer breeze,
You can hear him say:
'I am Björn Ironside!
Let no one forget
my name!'
@thewaywardpoet
#Vikings #Norse #Sweden #Scandinavia #travel #explore #history #poetry #spontaneousprose
© All Rights Reserved
he's slept on this hill,
Only the sound of the birds
to keep him company.
Such a humble grave
for a king,
Yet they love him still.
Every year,
The Swedes make
the pilgrimage,
Offering coins and swords
as tokens.
In the hush that follows
the summer breeze,
You can hear him say:
'I am Björn Ironside!
Let no one forget
my name!'
@thewaywardpoet
#Vikings #Norse #Sweden #Scandinavia #travel #explore #history #poetry #spontaneousprose
© All Rights Reserved
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