receding tempests
coasting down the path
nothing but somber battle drums
sound, true not bright
each soldier a figure in time
dancing 'cross the shallow
noting enemies' brazen aria
bold cacophony, light machine
"fire in the hole," rings proud
softened by the cries
of boys shouldering you and I
pray not for rain, for gold
or for your soul
pray the tempest ends
and father time brings them home
adt
short hills, nj
Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi
