Once a soldier struggled to town,
the hullabaloo of the environment went down.
He wore on his face a forced smile
and stared at the ground all the while.
His uniform was so dirty,
it looked like a tattered mufti,
red dots of blood scattered on his face,
life was fleeting in every turn of his gaze.
on his neck hung a locket of his daughter,
he couldn't drink the water he was offered,
yet tears rolled ceaselessly from his eyes,
everyone was caught by this traumatic sight.
He pointed his fingers sideways
to signal he was passing a message,
on his face, fears danced
and pity showed in each of his glance.
The hand he pointed was shaking,
still no one got the point he was making.
He decided to speak from his mouth, words
As he opened his lips, out rushed blood.
Silence took over the reins of the atmosphere,
it reigned temporarily everywhere.
Prints of the evening light reflected on his face,
and soon faded away with pace.
He had gone to war for several heads,
he had fought with little of his life left.
"I'm dying, I'm dying" he barked
and soon fell badly on his back.
He had left home to fight for home,
now the ground not home welcomes back his soul.
How his cause had come to zero,
but in our hearts, he remains a hero.
Alabi Muheez Ajibola Marquez
©Aj Maverick
#AnsaPoetOfTheWeekContest
am3mm10@ptsolest
