Sunday, October 20, 2013

Enoch, my brother

With cargos packed and sails unfurled
The Cadmus crossed an ocean wide
From the French shores to the new world
The General-Major toured the tide.

In every town which he did come
Their hero true was welcomed back
But soon fondness mellowed to glum
Under the skies of Hackensack.

The grass soaked up the silent sun
As shadows spilled from cold grave stones
Underneath the carpet earthen  
Lay the Poor soldier's honored bones.

As melancholy stroked his heart
Amidst the bloomed perennials
Lafayette turned and remarked
"Ah, that was one of my generals."

2 comments:

Gorilla Bananas said...

A martial poem to rival Gunga Din! I'm glad the last word was "generals" rather than "genitals".

ChrisV82 said...

An earlier draft concluded with "He used to wash my genitals."