A young man of twenty stands alone in a field.
He stretches and yawns in relief.
The hard part is over, little left to do,
and the morrow's work would be brief.
"Supper's ready!" he hears from off to the west,
his heart missing a beat at the sound.
The mule lifts its head, and shuffles and snorts,
and draws dust from the freshly plowed ground.
She comes running to him, a smile on her face,
this radiant, young bride of sixteen.
He spreads his arms wide and closes his eyes,
"Come to me, my lovely Colleen!"
He can feel the love flow from her heart,
as she wraps her arms around him.
No man deserved such a woman as this;
angels sing of her nature in hymn.
"Go on to the table before it gets cold," she says,
as she takes the reins from his hands.
"I am not so small and weak," she pouts,
"I too can master these lands."
With a kiss to her forehead, and a touch to her cheek,
he walks toward the home they have made.
Simple and rough, but filled with joy,
this little house built in the glade.
She watches her husband walk away from her,
her mind filled with elation of the day.
She looks beyond to the nest they have made,
to the loam where her children will play.
He enters the doorway and breathes in deep,
the smells of his always-burned feast.
What a child she still was in many ways.
He grins and turns his head to the east.
The mule shivers and stomps, as if in fear.
Colleen hears a sound from behind her.
"Oh, come on you beast, let's get moving;
'tis nothing but Roland's old cur."
A flock of pheasant scared from forests edge,
flies over the now skittish pair.
A snap of a limb and a mumbled curse
travels through the evening's air.
A blur of black comes from out of the woods,
and with one swift swipe it is done.
Colleen is taken, her young body gone stiff.
The great evil had finally begun.
Only one little cry had escaped her young mouth,
before the glove pressed down on her lips.
Into the wood,s taken with fury unbound,
thrown down to the ground among thrips.
"Your flesh will taste sweet, little lamb lost,"
the human swine breathed into her ear.
Colleen looked into the eyes of a fiend,
and for her dear Roland, she shed a tear.
She kept her eyes closed as her innocence was taken,
her mind drifting to places afar.
She saw her children singing and dancing 'round a fire,
as Roland played his guitar.
Time then stood still for this precious jewel,
her mind now lost to man's earth.
The beast had his way, and on this day,
wickedness felt its rebirth.
Roland stood at the doorway, tapping his foot,
a cup of coffee warming his hands.
What was taking her so long? That spontaneous sprite,
the old mule required few demands.
As the sky turned from orange to a purplish hue,
Roland began to feel uneasy in mind.
Unease turned to concern, and then to dread.
These lands could be so unkind.
The woods had gone still, only one sound was heard,
the breathing of the man who was sated.
He had only one thing left to do now,
and in his evil heart he was elated.
He pulled the dagger from out of his boot smoothly,
and touched young Colleen's breast with its tip.
"Say your prayers, if you have them" he grunted,
and into her chest did the blade quickly slip.
A thunderous clash caused Roland to cringe and grunt,
"My God what is happening now?"
Fear gripped his heart and he started to run,
and panic furrowed his brow.
Off in the distance, running through the woods; "Is that a man?"
Roland's feet cannot move quickly enough.
He passes the old mule, "But where is my Colleen?"
Dismissing the creature with a hasty rebuff.
The field was empty, no sign of his young bride.
"The man," grasped his thoughts forthright.
"Colleen, Colleen" he shouted in alarm,
as he ran to woods now void of light.
And it is there he found her, this most innocent of souls,
lying among weeds and scattered clothes.
Her eyes slowly closing, her heart growing still,
and from out of her mouth this arose...
"My Roland, my husband, is it you?
Please say I do not fantasize."
"It is I my sweet cherub, you are safe now."
As tears filled the young couple's eyes.
He lifted her gently from the now cursed ground,
her life's blood spreading and warming his chest.
"Speak my name, my love," she sighed.
"Colleen." And made happy, her soul went to rest.
He carried his dreams, his lover, his wife,
into the home that they had built.
He brushed her hair and kissed her lips,
then covered her with a woolen quilt.
"What have I done, God? Why am I being punished?"
He falls to his knees and weeps.
"I cannot live without my sweet Colleen!"
and into his tortured heart, anger creeps.
He pounds the earth with a clenched fist,
again and again and again.
"It isn't I who should suffer for another man's sin.
My justice, not God's, will begin!"
He stands and turns his face to the darkened skies.
"Today vengeance is born and love died!"
And with a heart gone black, hatred bred,
angels lowered their heads and cried.
