Friday, May 23, 2008


Rats run a rampage
Lice causes havoc
Gunfire sound in the distance
As the men in khaki
Try to lead a normal existence.

Objects keep them alive,
A portrait of their love,
The fan of his wife.
He sniffs the faint hint of perfume,
The only sense of home
When his future is unknown.

The whistle blows
Men go over the top
Enemy's bullet fire
One by one they drop.

The whistle blows again
Time to retreat
His treasure is dropped in the confusion.
Ignoring the orders,
He runs into no man's land.
A bullet is dislodged in his lungs,
Dropping the fan onto the muddy quagmire.

She receives a telegram
And a box
With last month's letter
And a shattered fan.

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