The Last Fallen Soldier
He sat there wondering how and why
Did all his comrades and friends have to die?
The field of blood was silent all but the beat of his heart
As the taste of victory was so sweet but yet unsatisfyingly tart.
The birds circled the skies declaring the battle finished
But the soldier walked home with his hope diminished.
He checked all his men for a pulse or a breath
But all he heard was the crickets’ chirp of death.
He limped on his bullet stricken leg on his way to somewhere
While in his head he knew he would make it nowhere.
The wound was deep and needed attention
As he wondered what he did to deserve this dreadful detention?
He felt himself get weak and start to stumble
As the soldier took his final tumble.
He hit the ground hard on his shoulder
And became the last fallen soldier.
ADAM CEBULLA is 15 years old, lives in Kalispell, MT, and loves to write poetry. He has been writing since he was in the third grade. Finally people have started to look at his poetry and said he should get it published. He hopes to become an accomplished poet someday.
