Anthony W. Pahl

SOUND OF DEATH

In the gray of the night, under a ghostly moonlight
we rested and listened for death.
And in the silence of dawn, old men were born
and young men breathed their last breath.

Eyes focused on hell, we hid our fear well
as the slaughter continued all ‘round.
Our buddies lay dead, all covered in red
And death has its own unique sound