1944

Tiny flecks of the early dawn
float through the pane glass
waking me.

I try to cling to the fragments
of my quickly fading dream
but it's lost.

Shots are fired, and I recall
my surroundings--a dilapidated house
we took for shelter.

Clenching to my rifle, I stand
from the rubble floor, my stomach turning,
but my mind fully awake
and ready.




[Note:  This is the first poem I've written in a year...don't judge me too harshly! :) ]