Thursday, January 10, 2019

A quick poem

I'm no poet, but this came to me today.


The Trooper
I remember that cold night,
When I shot that young man down,
I can see it so clearly, I thought with a frown.
When asked to empty his pockets,
I thought he reached for a knife,
Sadly for him, I feared for my life.
For in his pocket, so close and so handy,
In his dying hand I saw, he held a bag of candy.
Linda Wheeler

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