Posted in Terzanelle

Solitary Soldier

Far from home, a soldier marches
on the move when his country calls.
More than heat depletes and parches

and one by one, a comrade falls.
Smells of death assault each nostril.
On the move when his country calls,

unseen enemies grow hostile.
His air is filled with deadly bombs.
Smells of death assault each nostril.

He finds no zone with soothing calms.
As battles rage inside his head,
his air is filled with deadly bombs.

Alone he walks among the dead.
Unsteady legs, his footsteps slow
as battles rage inside his head.

He fights against a ruthless foe.
Far from home, a soldier marches.
Unsteady legs, his footsteps slow.
More than heat depletes and parches.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 9/16/14 form prompt at Poetic Asides to write a Terzanelle poem.

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