The shadows looming large in the cellar

Trade complaints in whispers

Passing into midnight

Full of tremors and carnage

–

Their bandaged bodies

Ache with fever-dreams of falling

Spent iron still burning

In their flesh and marrow

–

These scarred young minds

Plume gently at last,

While simmering in debate

Of what will become of them

–

The distant roar of shells

Answers back from the hills  

Flaring up in red

As they mutter into sunrise