Anthony W. Pahl


They come at a fast gallop; relentless as night
riding roughshod o’er memories best kept out of sight;
the noise of the onslaught numbs the power to fight
and senses can’t fathom what’s wrong or who’s right.

The pounding of hooves disturbs the sleep of the brave
and accompanies all warriors in their charge to the grave;
reminding old battlers that the price they have paid
means nothing at all when the night mares parade.

The sights and the sounds come ever more near
and combined with their screams… the onset of fear;
no sounds ‘cept the demonic night steeds are clear.
For sanity’s sake, “I must not advance… to the rear!”