Boots

 

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All works on this site
by Brian Belge 2009
unless otherwise noted
Boots
"Three little devils, All dressed in red,
Trying to get to heaven on the end of a thread.
The thread it broke and down they all fell.
Instead of going to heaven they all went to... "
--From an old child's song
Bootless young soldiers,
Deserving headstones:
Making molehills of mountains;
Dream not again!
O, how you used to shoot straight from the hip;
Risking your neck...
 
Footloose tin soldiers,
Milling out milestones;
Memorials by the millions.
Wishing to holler!
O, how you used to hate ties like iron collars
Ringing your neck.
 
Guiltless toy soldiers,
Marching like marionettes,
Treading the thread without a net;
Ringing black curtains down.
O, how you used to stride into the night
Brightly out of step...
 
God bless us, foot soldiers
When the whims of some god
Our thirsting throats caress,
We will dance! We will dance!
O, how we will dance like Shiva and the Rest!
With our boots on.