|
| |
No Mans Land
No certain places nor time. Neither here nor there. Dug a ditch and here I sit, listening for the other side. I hear the sound of War. Sounds like whistles flying by. I hear the sound of dying men, wondering if I'll be one of them. We can't question our authority. We keep track of artillery. We must move forward without retreat. We must defeat. In hopes cause for this war has good reason, like keeping our freedom, in our prayers we hope to prevail. Not fall and fail, left in No Mans Land would mean we failed. We must pray God will bring us home.
Copyright ©
Connie Hopper
|
|