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The Last Munro ©

Joe Sharp
Stra'ven, Scotland

I dream of the thrill as I climb a sloping hill
The heather and the bracken are abounding
The sun upon my back I trek the worn track
A shell explodes my eardrums are pounding

Still within a dream I see a mountain stream
Tumbling to the loch down in the glen
An eagle rules the sky my hopes are soaring high
A shell explodes the cry of wounded men

My pace is strong and sure I hear a curlew on the moor
I do so wish that I had wings to fly
To rise to what I seek and perch atop the lofty peak
A shell explodes I watch a comrade die

I rest upon my task sipping whisky from a flask
Regarding the summit in my sight
In peaceful great Glencoe to climb my last Munro
A shell explodes another hellish night

Aware of a creeping toxic stench
A strange white mist invades the trench
Ice cold shivers with a chill so deep
I sudden feel the need to sleep
A shell explodes

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