Colin F. Jones
It is when the sound of battle fades and dies,
That the greatest danger to our ranks applies,
When we at rest complacent in our forts,
Let dreams and comfort pacify our thoughts.
It is always where the ground seems firm and set
That the mire concealed doth bring us ill regret…
Is there not summer and a winter too,
Times of good health and times of virus flu,
Are we not always enemies of hate,
That complacency is a grave mistake?
Never forget the one who does you wrongs,
Who in your head but not your heart belongs,
For seldom does a river change its course,
Nor from his hatred will a fool divorce.
©Copyright September 26, 2003 by Colin F. Jones