The Captain Is Dead Poem by Philip Lore

I wait here in the sands of Iraq,
Loaded rife, pack on my back.
Scanning the desert for enemy presence,
Thank you honey for all the Christmas presents.

Walking, then clearing the mud huts nearby.
Staying alert, we search side by side.
A shot from a sniper,
Rings with a crack.
The Captain lays dead,
Shot in the back.

I remember his smile.
Now, shock on his face,
His blood dripping silently,
Lying still, bullets trace.

I race to the building,
He fires again, a miss to my right.
Lower my weapon,
Stare down my sight.

Fire my weapon, let go twenty rounds.
Hitting my target, he drops to the ground.
No satisfaction, as I start to leave,
It was for 'The Captain'
Forever....I'll grieve.