Let me write a poem which I promise is short,
About a newspaper story we would not think of a lot.
They said it happened sometime yesterday,
While I thought of what to watch, what to play.
The paper said rifle shots crisply rang out in the air,
As I thought of what not and what to wear.
He was outnumbered and his bunker was cold,
But he stopped them in their tracks I am told.
As I straightened my tie and went on my way,
Another nameless soldier died in his fatigues yesterday.
I promised you this poem will be very short,
About a newspaper statistic we would not think of a lot.