Terry D. Sutherland

THE WAGER

He walked into the night
His rifle in his hand
Hoping there’d be no fight
Or blood spilled in the sand

Months now turn into days
In a war ravaged foreign land
A battlefield shrouded in haze
Where brave soldiers made a stand

Staying alive until he leaves
Is how the game is played
Sergeant stripes on his sleeves
And a tear for those who stayed

It was all a game of chance
Whether he lived or he died
He never gave a second glance
He took every bit in stride

What he carried after that
The real wager of the game
Reliving war’s aftermath
Each day relived the same