I Saw Him Smoke A Cigar Poem by Gert Strydom

I Saw Him Smoke A Cigar



I saw him smoke a cigar
and the binoculars
brought him here with me.

His cap was at a rakish angle
and sweat from the early morning sun,
was running down his face.

He stood in his tank’s open hatch
and gestured and laughed
with a comrade.

It was like a moment of peace,
but my Ratel’s gun
send a deadly shell at point blank range.

He was no more and splattered
and just another casualty of war
and burning white phosphor decimated
the enemy tank’s entire crew.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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