The tales written on these walls

These tales were written on these walls
Peaceful nights
Coal for the fire in the coldest hearts
Eyes are shut but the ears hear the footsteps behind the walls.

Light wrestles the overwhelming darkness 
That cast spell and brings fear
Which day is less darker and strange?
Where is the watchman that survives a day to tell the story?

The hearts of men pound
Some for fear and others for evil
The order is a sequel
That so many read about but disbelieved
Until they met the devil in the book.

Men play hide and seek with the enemy
And the lads learn the coward-way
These were the tales written on these walls.

The Danes and arrows; the unused toys
Buried in the basement for the days of sport
And hearts beat like drums
Yet the drumming grows quieter before death.

They die before knowing death
They leave without footprints
They robbed life the many years it wanted to stay
It still is the same today.