Forgotten History

Cold morning early October

the Frenchman cries as the young

officer steps forwards

head held high.

Bravery. A bravery not many

seem to possess.

Pale locks of hair frame the 

officer's face as he looks, studies.

Poet artist officer many titles

accompany his name

But none can save his life

his soul his freedom.

He dies for his country

an honorable death

A necklace of twine

He pulls around his neck,

forgoes a cloth over his

eyes, wants to watch, to see,

to paint a final image in his mind. 

The Frenchman cries

The General's eyes hard and blank

The lawyer watches, unreadable, unsmiling

Any last words, the officer is asked and

with a strong steady voice he replies.

The New Yorker watches

tries not to think how that coul be him in 

another time another place

The paper burns in his pocket a sketched man

watches judgmental as its creator hangs.

A member of the lower party, another

officer hangs with honor with duty for his country.

The necklace of twine, the last piece of jewelry

to adorn the officer's body.

Feet swing as a soft breeze blows.

The Frenchman turns away

The lawyer closes his eyes

The General and New Yorker walk away

and just another officer swings

forgotten to history.