Poetry

The Guardsman

By 31st May 2011December 9th, 2019No Comments

Three drunken idiots, out on a Saturday night
Looking for some action, bruising for a fight
Not so drunk to take risks, an easy target they seek
A person to be a punch bag, someone who is weak

Cold and damp the night, homeless he looks for cover
A cardboard bed he has, shop doorway once used by lovers
Exhausted from time awake, head down fast asleep
No knowledge of the danger, soon a danger to reap

Three fools looking for laughter, all three of them cowards
Already seen the bum, a man once in the queens guards
They move toward the prey, no notion of any danger
Skulk across the road, together pounce on the stranger

Too weak to fight back, guardsman feels every blow
Kicks rain in from above, how long he doesn’t know
When sated the cowards run, laughing at what’s achieved
Not giving any thought, the guardsman lying relieved

Four times it happened this month, how much can he take?
Beatings for being on the street, maybe beatings for beatings sake
This time he is hurt real bad, something is so very wrong
Next he knows he is not alone, he thinks he hears a song

He opens eyes and stares, someone stands behind a glow
Terror strikes at his heart, this he has never known
A voice speaks with grace “rest guardsman your duty is done”
He feels the lightest touch, together they climb to heaven as one

David McDonald

Author David McDonald

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