about the Revolutionary War

The red-coated evil spirits march
In perfect order, aligned to terrorize.
Proud and erect, they march onward,
Believing no soul can halt them.
The sticks of death are prepared,
Ready to fire-all for Her Majesty.

Though the daylight shines brightly,
Darkness is afoot. The opposing
Troops, who cry for independence,
Also cry in fear. Shielding themselves
in the ocean o trees, they wait.
Surely the red-coated evil spirits
would not discover them here.
Footsteps sound in the distance-
it must be a fellow American troop!
They huddle behind their trees in
dead silence- waiting.

Suddenly, out comes a phantom
of the night, clothed in red and
prepared to kill.
Out of the gray mist comes a
clanking cacophony of men’s own terrors.

Hoofbeats pounding, heartbeats sounding,
clambering and wrestling for life.

Two brave ones, brothers at heart, are separated by
the realm of death. Between the losses and the
victories, there is a lifetime in between.