D (16.03.89 / Doncaster, England)

The Fading Cannon's Cry

“Cover! ” Yelled my soldier friend
As he ran around the bend.
The trench was slick and smooth with mud,
Mixèd with my comrades’ blood.
The boom which came from out of sight,
Illuminated fast the night.
A silence was resulted then,
Before commotion came again.
No birds, nor breeze, nor dying shriek,
Which I’d grown used to in the week.
A scented air of smoke and fire,
Drifted close from past the wire.
The barbs upon the fence were round,
With hanging cloth and flesh abound.
As I gripped my rifle strong,
Whistling an absent song,
I glimpsed the shell which drew exact,
To rend apart my nerve and tact.

End.

by Daegal

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