a dying soldier turned up his head.
A cut and scatched body full of burns -
same story of those with no returns.
Half opened but glowing were his eyes,
as he looked up to reddening skies.
Further beyond would rise his name,
his act ensured all glory and fame.
Forever will stop his smile, jolly talk -
his cold body now pale as a chalk.
This choice he made with no haste,
he was a proud soldier of decent taste.
'The One' gone with enemy's curses,
a 'New One' instead his role rehearses.
Not sullen but he was calm and mild -
It's how martyrs tame Death in the wild.
Prasenjit©2022
No comments:
Post a Comment