My Soldier

Beckoned by a lingering tale,
Told countless times before
She held her hand across her heart,
And heard his words once more.
The silence in the morning air
Hung tightly like a shroud,
As gasps and cries before her
From mothers in the crowd.
So soon she would be fighting
A mask upon her face,
A weapon tucked against her soul
A soldier in her place.
The shrieking of a siren,
The sound of bullets pass,
She remembers what her father said
It only counts who’s last.
And now the only fear she keeps
The sudden fear of death,
The slamming of a bullet and
The touch of angels breath.
Staring at the sky above
Her father’s eyes look back,
The fiery night is fading
As the ghost of life attacks.


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