Joan d'Arc

When Rome was humbled,
at the feet of a virgin;
and begged her patroness;

Still a vial
of sinister deed,
refuses to believe,

A woman clothed in armor.


This is her sword:
verbiage.

But lost in blue-gray eyes,
the past is recollected;
and the sins of hours,
are not neglected in her sorrows.

Home.

The basis of all fortifications,
where sticks and brass,
shield a family from weather.

The storm brews;
but who builds bunkers by
their prayers, to weather.