Charles J. Ingerson


If one could count
close passing fire
would any amount
would a life require?

Drawing one out
from hiding found
finds a forward scout
moving without sound.

How many times
wondered my mind
bullets and lines
no one to now find?

Millions maybe fired
they can’t all miss
or all be retired
their wicked hiss.

So many just a game
TV, movies not real
till some think to tame
their mission to steal.

Somewhere a warrior
molding with some care
a bullet so superior
with my life to share.

Watching into the zone
with a mission to kill
my life maybe to own
unless it first I still.