The barren landscape peeks through the winter curtain
Brown branches, rusted metal, blackened ruins
Barbed wire coils hide like serpents underfoot
Shapes unknown lie frozen in the drifts
The wind reveals them, and then quickly hides
High tension from constant observation
Careful steps, careful ears, and watchful eyes
Every side a place to hide, or a place to die
The colored ground reminds you of the pain
Muddy pathways from the armor
Grease, urine, oil, and trash from the troops
And the blood; pink stains in the snow
Wondering if these sights are our last
Soldiers, landmines, hunger, or the cold
Enemies all around us
Yet on and on we walk in file
Owner/Admin at The Gypsy Thread
As a hopeless romantic at heart, Ralph indulges in romantic poetry, but also allows his mind time to wonder across all subjects.A master of vocabulary and word-use, Ralph has a writing style that gives his works their own life, often giving his readers just enough information that they end up doing additional research on his subject matter.
Latest posts by thegypsy (see all)
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