Laid back looking at the sky.

The Sun's out high, and it's burning his Eye.

Watching the crows fly.

The half dead killers he lay beside.

Aching from the arrow in his thigh.

The young man is afraid to die.

In a foreign land, damn his pride.

Made his mother cry when he said goodbye.

Said he'd return by July, if he survived.

Heat makes him wonder if summers arrived.

"Im going home." Whimperingly he surmised.