FABRICE POUSSIN - POEMS
On the Walls of the Old Fort
Kaki shorts may not suffice
to make the dream of a war complete.
Toy guns shaped of fallen oak limbs
and popping sounds from the mouths of babes.
Distant images of boys and girls at play
on a battlefield once of crimson rivers.
Pondering the last days of a scorching summer
an aged visitor leans upon a curvy stick.
Scanning an endless panorama eyes closed
the old warrior recalls confused memories.
Summer dresses, sandals with flowery giggles
and the surprise of a gentle fall in blades of grass.
Stumbling with a deathly thump into a muddy pool
surrounded by the darkness of many a running mate.
Still on the prairie, the flaneur feels a teasing breeze as
tears explode upon the face where once peace had a home.
Child again, child at last, innocent of a genderless youth
cries for the hours of ecstasy on the tragedies
still echoing within the walls of the old fort.