Get Your Premium Membership

The Drummer Boy

I am a drummer boy for the Union Army. I am only 12 years old and I have left my home far away. Feelings rushing through me: scared of dying, afraid of what will come at morning's light. Nevertheless, my job is keeping the roll going. I have to make them Confederates feel the fear. My hands are always going. Rat-a-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat Over and over again. Seven months have gone by since I last saw my Mother's worried face about her youngest son off to war. I have not seen my Father's face, which was once so proud and strong, since I was 5 years old. My Father died then. I became a man then and now I am ever so much more a man then I was back when. Today, I am stronger, bigger and smarter. I have learned how to cook my own meals, to mend my own clothes, to tend too my own needs. I know that any day I could die. Just from one single bullet from a Confederates gun. A person who is just trying to do what is right and lawful.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.