The Rider

Here is a poem i wrote. I like this as well. The White Rider The shadows creep along the wall, They hurt the weak and mute their call But when they hear the Rider come, They turn horrified and flee back home. A torch held high, his cloak drawn near, The white Rider heads toward fear. His duty is to serve his old wise king So he heads to hell where demons cling. The task will be hard, the troubles great, But no one else does the Rider hate. As the Rider prays for strength from God, An angel appears with a sword and a rod. When the Rider appears at hell's fearsome gate, He charges at it and vents all his hate. He strikes down the wicked and saves all the good, And will return to his king, just as he should.