Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a
marching towards the battle
Hearing the cries
Not so far away
And closer, closer now
Louder still
The shrieks
Of missiles
Lethal and saving
Roman Candles
Lighting, revealing
The gory scene
That unfolds below
The crash of cannons
Each pop of a musket
A tick or a tock
Of a dusty clock
That can never be
Unwound
Lightning from the storm
Channels through us
To the ground
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection 1.0
Poetrya collection of words attempting to capture just a bit of light, a touch of dark, and much of the Confused in between
