The Young Soldier Poem by A.J. Enigma

Though lying in the grip of pain, the young soldier was not yet slain.

He did not scream, nor shriek or wail despite the blood which stained his mail. His palm was red, he clutched his wound, slowly fading from this afternoon.

Already ‘round him men lay dead, but the soldier breathed as thought filled his head. Back home awaited his fairest love, to whom he’d sworn on stars above his safe return one fine day soon, a promise broken this afternoon.

He’d been a fool with sword in hand, fought for honor, for glory and land. But now as ‘neath him leaves turned red, it was for her he fought instead. For one last chance to hold her tightly, their love to savor, not take lightly. To hear her sing her lovely tune, oh how he wished this afternoon.

Though his body did grow weary, the sun above was not so dreary. Its warmth embraced him, called him home, he did not fear nor feel alone. The time had come for his return, so many lessons he did now learn.

Behind closed eyes, he saw her face and then his heart had ceased its pace. Gone was he, like others ‘round though even more fell on the ground.

A sight indeed so truly vile but on his face, he wore a smile.