Colin F. Jones


~ 1 ~

There was movement at the wire gate,
As the monsoon rain did pound.
He moved the MG to his left
And hugged closer to the ground.
A little boy with folded arms
Came walking up the road;
A smile on his little face,
But weighted from the load
Of hand grenades about his waist,
One primed beneath his hands.
That, to the soldier, brought bitter taste…
For the boy ignored his harsh demands.
That as he neared the ammo dump
Was heard the MG’s sounds.

~ 2 ~

What could he do, that shaking man
Whose job was to survive
Not only to defend himself
But to keep his mates alive?
He shouted for the child to stop,
But the hidden sniper egged him on.
“Go back – go back!” he yelled at him
But nothing could be done.
So blinded by his bitter tears,
He squeezed off a single round
And realized his deepest fears
As the child hit the ground;
Exploding as his hands released
The devastating sound.