Foe and Posterity
Bright in the sky is the menacing moon,
Forced and relentless the winter night stride.
Rushing, the enemy’s bound to be soon
Close to the traveler’s hide.
Wearied and breathless, he throws off his gear
Besieged by the cold. He loads up his gun
While mumbling a prayer, but fate’s drawing near:
Hope for escape there is none.
No quarter or pity! His dear one is far,
His life nearly over, his eyes stern and bleak.
Death, foe and posterity merciless are,
Yet none shall remember him weak!
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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