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August 23, 1944 - 102 miles west of Paris (Free verse) by Ranger

"Locket" This field is dead This road dismayed The earth has been grazed Ploughed into bruising waves by steel oxen Who'd thundered like the sea Mist & smoke Breaking beneath a murderous moon They trod that final road And closed their eyes at last Now those tides have been stemmed All oceans are silent Remaining only in the whittling of wind Through empty shells Dawn air, still, thin and calm Birds struggle for purchase While on the ground lies a small gold ring With a small white face Staring at the sky

ALChemy 3-Jul-06/6:18 AM
Just watched "Saving Private Ryan" didn't you? Captured the end quite well and with few words.




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