Frontlines

Sounds of battle through the day

Swift are ebbing ‘neath dusk’s sway

As the daylight fades, and dim

Shadows cloak the fallen men.


Into camp a soldier limps,

Hoping soon to catch a glimpse 

In the darkness ‘neath a tent

Of a sorely wounded friend.


Yon he lies, on coarsest sheet,

But with brightest eye does meet

Dearest friend, who through the fight

Carried him from bitter plight.


There they sit, as fire’s gleam

Washes them in glimmer keen,

Soothing war torn minds to ease,

‘Neath the shadow of the trees.

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