the mustard trousered soldiers
in crisp white shirts lie dead.
their heads decapitated
burnt to gray ash.
in the blue glass tomb
they lie still as silence.
and the question i ask
from lungs bellowing smoke
are these macabre omens?
Your Daily Haiku
by Jason
the mustard trousered soldiers
in crisp white shirts lie dead.
their heads decapitated
burnt to gray ash.
in the blue glass tomb
they lie still as silence.
and the question i ask
from lungs bellowing smoke
are these macabre omens?
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