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On Being Shot At Dawn ©

(Inspired by the final scene of the film: "Breaker Morant". Please don't ask why; I don't have a single clue. It just sort of popped into my head. Scary, or what?)

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1988

I've had no poems
Published, and
I doubt I'll
E'er be famous,
Yet still I turned
A pretty hand,
For I'm
No ignoramus.
So who protests
The truth of it,
That every man's
His own, sir?
You cannot tell
The youth of it,
But every man's
Alone, sir!



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