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Senseless
April 29, 2009
Troops marching into battle.
Praying for their lives,
to see their families once more.
Families pray once more,
to see their sons and grandsons,
one last time.
Marching, Marching.
The stiffness in the air
so much you couldn't bear,
just to be near
would surely produce a tear
and silence...
a quiet whistle.
The first shell falls.
The men look up,
give one last cry of remorse.
They whisper "I love you"
to all of the people they will never see again.
All is forgotten.
Brilliant light erupts in the cold dawn air.
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