He walked out the door.
Not knowing his future.
Will he come back?
He gets into the taxi.
He fights back tears.
Soldiers don’t cry.
Into the rear mirror he gazes.
Tears run down his cheeks.
Wars happen; wars continue.
Towns in smokey rubbles.
The smell of death everywhere.
Images burned into his mind.
He looks for a lifeline.
Pull me out, he scream.
Soldiers don’t cry.
They march into battle.
A soldier’s story told.
Of prayer to survive.
Tomorrow brings another war.
The soldier prays to survive.
Everything exploding.
Chaos all around him.
Horror and pain.
His heartbeat almost gone.
By C.E. Pereira
(24-8-2018)
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. In recent years, the younger generation have added on to include spouses from the Philippines, Nigeria and Russia. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique.
Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems.
I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination.
To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome.
Sincerely,
C.E. Pereira
View All Posts
HoneyGwhiz 