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One-thousand feet in steady rhythm,
Two columns marching down the road.
In their hands their shiny weapons,
Upon their backs a heavy load.

In their minds their families linger,
Yet pride and duty drive them on.
Sleep deprived, they yearn for respite,
Yet they'll march until the dawn.

Young they heeded call of battle,
Though battle-crazed they are no more.
They have seen the repercussions.
They were witness to the horror.

No one era this tale possesses;
Through every age this legend's told.
One-thousand feet in steady rhythm,
Two columns marching down the road.

Copyright © 1997 by Randal A. Burd, Jr.

Publications: Rolla, MO: Southwinds, Spring/Summer 1999

Author's Note: Poems viewed here are the latest versions and are not necessarily word-for-word as published.