Colin F. Jones

DEATH OF A SOLDIER

He raised his head.
Was by a bullet struck!
He lay there dead;
His eyes looking up.
He swam through darkness.
Towards a blaze of light,
His rotting carcass,
Left in the violent night.
In endless space,
He floated calmly through,
With a gentle grace,
As all good Angels do.
And found his peace,
Where soldiers mount the crest,
Where those released
From pain all go to rest.