The wind bellows;
Unrelenting, pounding, cold.
A dog barks sending sharp shivers down my spine.
Lying on my front my nose presses against the mud, It's earthy smell filling my nostrils.
Footsteps quicken, voices rise as I taste the salty sweat on my brow.
They've found me.
Reaching for my revolver I grasp it firmly, assured at last.
A single shot fires, it's echoes piercing the night as the thirsty ground soaks up my blood.
Monday, March 29, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: war,england,army,armed forces day,remembrance,soldier,gun,death,suicide,reflecting,sacrifice
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
A story about a soldier who was never going to let himself be captured and become a prisoner of war.