We have many myths. Some are based on real characters or events, some not.
Sadly we cannot tell which are and which are not. In a way this does not matter. We all ought to enjoy some stories.
Hooded man in the wood
The path meandered through the wood.
A walker walked that way.
He wore a heavy woven hood,
This was a brand-new day.
It seemed strange as he walked along
There through the silent trees.
This day he could not hear bird song
So, he was ill at ease.
The sun rose silent in the sky,
The wood seemed denser yet.
He dropped his purse but let it lie;
He had no cares nor debt.
There may be care most everywhere
He felt no care nor fear
Some things you do you may not share
Soon he would lie dead here
He’d fought his last fight late last night,
Alone he’d walked away.
His wound at first had seemed quite light;
It seemed not so this day.
Alone he had struck out for home,
In pain he’d wandered on.
Then he let out a muffled moan,
Right there his strength seemed gone.
I found him dead beneath a yew,
Cobwebs upon his face.
He’d done what others dared not do:
They live on in disgrace!
I dug his grave deep in the wood
But took his hood to keep.
I think he thought he had done good.
How so, when many weep?
© T Morgan, 21 October 2017