Divina Boulangé


A Soldier Remembers

That bitter night in Valley Forge stands above my other memories.
‘Twas winter, and the snowy winds whistled through the trees.
Gathered ‘round a dying fire, soldiers shivered from the night chill.
Few were sleeping; others keeping solemn vigil stood still.

At the edge of the encampment, a movement caught my eye.
A dark form disappeared behind a bush; could it be a spy?
Quietly I rose and, following the footprints, slipped into the night.
A trail of bloody snow was all that I could dis

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