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...Only Eighteen

The boom and crump of distant guns,
vibrations in the air.
The acrid smell of cordite spreads
its mantle of despair.

The soldier fell at Hazler's Gate,
a hole torn in his side.
Late that night he died, alone,
life's promises denied.






Author notes

abcb rhyme scheme

A contest entry

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  • Frodofan silver member
    August 19, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Or perhaps fufilled. Who are we to say? Good work on this. Very stirring for just a few lines. Wonderful job. Thanks for entering.