by Beth Dobbs

Created on: July 14, 2008

"Winner"

Sweat made a trail
In the dust of her cheek.
Of her enemy's face,
She received not a peek.
Shana's sword
Glimmered int he light
Of her last setting sun.
Her end was in sight.
She had taken the road,
Gone down the wrong ben.
Now her decision
Would cause her end.
The petty thief
Took, for jewels, her life.
Though never had the latter
Ever been free of strife.
With her last, dying breath,
Shana forgave the sin,
And thus, in the end
It caused her to win.

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