Ghostly Foot Prints

GHOSTLY FOOT PRINTS Ghostly soldiers echo past Through snow-capped mountains They must blast, Through uninhabitable surroundings Enabling them to weave, Trying not to ever leave Evidence of them been there, Through, rugged dangerous Terrain, a path, Marching toward an enemy Full, of long felt wrath! Like ghosts, not a sound is heard, A broken piece of brass Which they just bypass, Years later is found, Laying half hidden in Snowy ground! This medal was once worn With pride, Left, trodden over, as they slide, Down sleet and snow 5 foot deep, To surprise, the enemy whilst They sleep! This battle they are ordered To win, Knowing that most of them Are kin! Surprise they did, and bravely fought And shed much blood, As through trenches full Of snow and mud, They plodded, and crawled And run and killed And felt appalled, As fellow soldiers and Kin lay sprawled, For orders had to be obeyed, No matter who was lost, Or Saved. They knew this was not right, They had by far, the strongest might! Today, these silhouettes go forth With Ghost like face, Souls sad, their march is Now a heart sore pace, They breeze by with an icy feel, Rubbing shoulders with them Feels real, We shiver at the very thought, That all this bloody battle brought Was shame and guilt, at how They’d won, Perhaps killing their own father, Brother or perhaps son. You’ll sense these ghostly faces, On a chilly snowy, icy night, When the moon is bright, Leaving footprints to remind Us all, Never should soldiers fight And fall, For land, wealth or ideals, Or for glory, Leaving behind a sad, sad story!