Learnmore Edwin Zvada writes

War Buddies

At a day far gone in memory
Unto a blissful hour we belonged
Some buddies we were: Tim, Todd and I
An army we fronted up the hills and down the valleys
Upon the warmth of night, we fell atop a leafy track
A dull machete rested on Tim's shoulder
A shiny bayonet carried I
It was Todd who bore our war cry
In plurals we crescendoed a melancholic dirge
Like drunk monkeys we staggered the song without pause
The beast and the wood stood along our track
Growling and menacing at our dear souls against a darkest blind
'Nay me boys', it’s Todd, he shushed
'Hush now comrades, this wood holds enough sacredness to bury us without reach'
So gingerly we strode on 
Till our subdued tune took us nigh a lonely brook
Where we rested our dear old souls awhile
And washed our soiled boots and muddied faces
Tis when a cunning sleep put us down
Like triplet crocs sunning after a daylong toil
We lay on the rocks till the chill of dawn nudged us out of our slumber
On the road we were again, bound for the hills that lay ahead
Only Heaven knew what lay behind the deep and the rise