Poetry of Fox

No Beach to Walk On

The day, it is, so very long, and slowly getting colder;
And terrible are, these ordeals, that I have come to shoulder.
Some days the pressure, is so great, enough to take my breath;
For my choice, can be the difference, between their life or death.

My thoughts wander, aimlessly, seeking the answers I must find;
I gently close, my weary eyes, to repress my tortured mind.
Some time to shed, the pending hardships, I know that I must face;
And just for a while, leave behind, this wretched accursed place.

I long to feel, the gentle breeze, blow across my troubled brow;
To walk the sparkling sands of time, to do it here and now.
For just a few hours, feel the warmth, of a tropical sun;
And amble along, a quiet beach, until the day is done.

Opening my eyes, waiting still, the burdens of my command;
The time has come, and I must perform, the job that is at hand.
How many men, will I send to die, before the wars are gone;
Too many I fear, sealed by fate, alas, no beach to walk on.

Fox