Waiting for the next command.
A soldier is always waiting.
Rifle at the ready, senses tense;
Let's get it over with.
Then the whistle is heard.
All hell seems to break loose,
As we charge at an unseen enemy
Who is hiding in his trenches.
Life was expendable.
Sights of the enemy,
In horrific looks, as they lie
Motionless and quite dead.
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Ron
Your poem wakes one up to the reality of this Memorial Day.
I salute all that have served and honor all that have not come back to us.
Much peace, love and light,
Amber
Love ya!
Jane