Summer Night's Sojurn In Old Virginny
alone I made camp
in an old post-war lean-to
so close to the river
mist covers me like dew
next to my rough camp
I found rougher white stones
faded names, faded lives
graves hiding old bones
in the moon's creeping light
I now make out a field
spread out past night's shade
where sad mourners once kneeled
beside these low markers
rusted cannon keep vigils
of breastworks and trenchline
jagged metal pierced sigils
low in the dark, down in the fog line
lines of shadows form massing
with silvered bayonets gleaming
ghastly fell nightly passing
I lay huddled in peril for
my sanity, my soul
as rank upon rank
passes by my dreary dank knoll
charging like black wind
further up on the hill
faded gray met with old blue
and Old Scratch gets the bill
it was too much to take
this hellish night on that knob
flown away, bellowed oaths
lord save me from that damned mob
morning comes on the old pike
I'm roughly shaken awake
caretaker's rough warning
he's got his rounds now to make
as I plod down that road
I risk looking over my shoulder
in night's last shadows I see grinning
fading crimson eyed soldiers...
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2014
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