© 2013 (By Jim Sularz)
Let me muse a bit,
below the parapet.
And bask awhile,
in the sun and grit.
That I should kill,
or be killed instead?
Come my battle cry...
'Fix bayonets! '
... Dare I charge headlong,
beyond this pit?
Through War's slaughterhouse,
past the blood and spit.
Do as I'm told,
without regret?
As I plunge over...
my epitaph.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem