Sniper Poem by Paul Cardinal

Silently he sneaks up to the mountain edge.
Laying down, inches from the ledge.
Equipping his rifle, he waits.
His sight aimed at the market gates.

Hour one passes by.
Remaining still, he doesn’t even blink an eye.
He knows his mission and what he has to do.
Glancing at the picture, of the man he has to pursue.
The wind blows harder.
In his state of mind, it’s no bother.

Hour four, since his mission begun.
There is no time limit for one that fights for freedom.
His eyes burn with the cold winter chill.
All along, just waiting for his time to kill.
Frost settles on his guns barrel.
His breath now slow and fragile.

Hour sixteen sets in.
So cold and hungry, his sight slims thin.
His wishful mind wonders out into the wild.
He pictures warm meals with his wife and child.
As the hours pass by...
The dark consumes the night sky.
He fights to remain awake.
Deeper into the night, his sanity is about to break.
His eyelids grow heavy and ache.
His hands and arms start to shake.

Hour nineteen arrives.
His honor thrives, as the target is in sight.
The snipers eyes widen and heart is pumping.
His back now straight, that at once was slumping.
The crosshairs aimed between his eyes.
In the name of evil, he has been baptized.
A pull on the trigger...
The thunder like cracking sound lingers.
The bullet speeds toward the man.
His fate is out of his hand.
Blood spills on the white pure snow.
Mission completed, he vanished into the night like a crow.
It was a long wait for the sniper.
But when the time was right, he struck like a viper.