Legacy

What a legacy a single life,
carries in it's veins.
A private piece of yesterday.
History book's can not claim.
Did the redman brave know?
His blood would one day mix.
With the hated foe.
Of pale paste flesh.
He spots across the ditch.
Cold brown eyes lock with green.
Each promising the other death's cradle.
Never knowing a centuries time.
Would melt them eyes into hazel.
With all the hate both habored.
Without a clue that in a future time,.
A single girl would call them both
grandfather.
Donna Gail Burdette
Copyright ©2005 Donna Gail Burdette