By dawns early light, the fog was beginning to clear,
But we all could see with a sickening knot in our
stomachs the disturbing yellow mist that was rolling
Across the field of barbed wire and trenches;
Engulfing all those that were unlucky enough to fall
Within its path
Coughing, choking, and gagging sounds could be heard
For at least a hundred meters in front of us, and as the
Yellow mist drew closer, only the silence of the grave
The Grim Reaper was coming for us this day, his scythe
Sharp and ready to cut us down like a field of daffodils.
The Lt. shouted for us all to put on our gas masks, but
Most were ill fitting and many of us expected to die within
The next few moments
As the yellow mist engulfed our trench, I could hear coughing
And screaming of my friends and fellow brothers in arms
As the mist made it inside their masks; and then the sickening
Sound of silence as they fell to the bottom of the trench
Like daffodils to the reapers scythe.
By
Bree Orlock
2020