The Dogs of War

The lightning bolt streaks in majestic power across the sky-
Striking it’s target the thunder rolls and booms by and by-

The dog and I both jump with hearts beating dire-
Momentarily until the realization this is nether cannon nor artillery fire-

Or the huge stones from catapults as the screaming men escalade the wall-
As scores of desperate men from the battling ramparts fall-

The screams of the dying which will not allow sleep are that of which nightmares are constructed-
The long dead march in moaning columns through the length of the night unobstructed-

Sometimes the dog in his sleep shakes and whines as he dreams of eleven days of hell-
He rides again the saddle in front of me as the clashing swords ring like a bell-

In life after life he has been my friend in the heat and hell of battle-
Riding in carts, wagons, tanks and on a crusader’s saddle-

Thats why he shakes and lays against my side at the clap of wayward thunder-
He has again and again heard the clash of arms, the roar of cannon, seen his world torn asunder-

So as the thunder rolls and the horrors of war come back, tight against me he abides-
I speak to him softly and assure him he can hide against me till the rumbling subsides-

The Ole Dog!

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