Sopping wet cotton towel
Laid across broad shoulders,
Heavy, cold; pressing down
Like two one ton granite boulders.
Frosty goose skinned arms
Shivering in the back of the night
Blurred vision, runny nose,
No energy left to fight.
Enemy within, enemy without
This war just needs to end.
Losses heavy, steaks so high,
The home-front can’t comprehend.
The end’s in sight, the pain will stop,
No longer be afraid:
This old soldier’s mission ends
When in the ground he’s laid.
Poem #13 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)