Bugler

"Bugler"

Here lay the body of a bugle boy,
on wars hallowed battle ground.
Awaiting the final troops deploy,
eerie silence, replacing sound.

Heroes all, both boys and men,
bloodied bodies lay all around.
The next to fall had been a friend,
others lost and never found.

Most had died by musket and ball,
some from razor tipped bayonets.
Led in battle by the bugler's call,
battle fought, their fates were met.

Now they'll rest in a clover field,
much too young to die this way.
Fought hand to hand, heel to heel,
never to see another sunlit day.

The bugler stares, eyes facing west,
too young a life to have it end.
A golden bugle upon his chest,
regrets to his mother they'll send.

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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