Shapeless,

Lost in an armory

Is a gentle phantom

Whose bittersweet odes

Ring softly in its halls

–

In the steel grey fort,

Through its turrets and trenches

The apparition roams

For any breach in its armor

–

 In the iron-sighted eyes

Of its shell-scarred bunkers

The young melody flowers

Through the cold barbed wires

–

The warmth of his echo

Will remain long after

Battle lines have vanished,

To the scratches of a pen