He felt the dampness on his face
And opened up his eyes
Then from the shore there came a scream
The air was thick, with battle cries

He grabbed his axe and helmet
And raced toward the shore
And there a few but gallant men
Fought the viking hoard once more

He did'nt give a second thought
And raced toward the scene
His axe was swinging left to right
Ignoring all their screams

He headed for their leader
Amid the blood and gore
And slashed a path toward him
Then let out a mighty roar

Face to face on shore line
His axe about to wield
He lifted up his arm to strike
His foe then dropped his shield

In blood and sweat they stood apart
And then the shock was great
They stood upon this shore line
As though decreed by fate

It was as if a mirror seen
The eyes, the nose, the mouth
There standing straight in front of him
A vision of himself.

To be continued: