Billy F. Dial, Jr
A SOLDIER’S LAMENT
Death I know you are lurking,
in this hot and desolate land,
where men are clashing in battle,
You lower your dreaded hand.
Not knowing from minute to minute,
when you will choose my fate,
will it be as I sit to dine?
Or at rest when the hour is late?
Death you come as a thief in the night,
nowhere for one to cower,
no one knows the time of your coming,
which day or even the hour.
Oh Death I know you are present,
to me your face is known,
I pray you will go away from here,
go away and leave me alone.
©Copyright September 2004 by Billy F. Dial
Author’s Note: Written at Al Taqaddam, Iraq