Boom! The sound in my eyes sting of sand
The shells exploding men yelling
Towards their Gods
Decision day has started
Oh how sweet the morning glory of chaos
Bullets zig zagging men darting and yelling
Bring force; Reinforce the wave of triumph
Say when
As we climb the treacherous rocks
More are picked off
Alarms sound but not in the language of romance
Only wine will calm these nerves
Hopefully the death angels have seized their side
Side tracked from her work a letter arrives
News is brought that would sever ties
The front is a moving success and there are plans
Ones only God could make a fool of
She trembles as the sight of constant secrecy prevails
Why must she unhinge cars for ships and be kept in the dark
A pigeon lands on the pavement and rips at leftover bread
She waits for more news
Not knowing he's dead
Say when uncle
To send the next fleet
Our generations hope
A winning defeat.
Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.
No comments:
Post a Comment