GP ( / Normandy , Bilston, UK)

The Gambler

The cold winds blew with loneliness and hate.
He struggled on against an unknown fate,
His courage grew with each cold blast,
He know he would make it at last!
A gambler born to fight the wrong,
That rang around him like a song.
The traitor stepped up into view.
Up went his gun and he shot true!
The traitor fell in mortal pain.
Shouting out the devil's name.
But there the gambler's luck ran out.
And in his ears he heard a far of shout!
"You've played a great game and won my son"
So come and join us in the sun.
His fading eyes they saw sail,
Approaching fast like in a fairy tale.
He saw his comrade from the fast.
He smiled a smile of peace, on deck at last!

by Gordon Paul

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