Gordon Paul

(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.

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