The Noise Stopped … (poem)

The Noise Stopped

The noise stopped.
The sky was still.
One lone soldier
marched over the hill.
He shuffled his feet,
he had a blank look.
I saw him pass
and then there were more.

All dressed in grey
and covered with dirt,
kicking up dust
as each one passed.
The battle was over!
The march of the dead.

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