We are in the queue,
me and you, we know it too:
our front line fallen.
Best not push too hard
or we’ll be displaced
and lives could tumble.
.
If we two could pick
any darn box we desired,
ours would be blood red,
filled with comrades lost
when choices were made
by God, them or us.
.
But we can only
push on with compromised hope,
chipped swords and hearts drawn
in desperation.
Come, let us exchange
pretty distractions.
aplaceforpoetry 