I saw El Diablo’s grin
Smelt the sulphur on his breath
He was in ecstasy
The battlefield spoilt him for choice
He never choose me that cold day in June
Greedily he ate up my brothers souls
Not a few hundred yards in front of me
Gone in a fiery holocaust of flames and screams
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Hell had spewed from the bowls of the earth
Laughing at me he waved goodbye
I was told how lucky I was
Thirty years have passed
I have traded insults with him
He left me not out of pity
But to further punish me
Waking in a sweat filled nightmare
I scream for him to take me
He wags his finger at me like a lap dog
“Not yet, Not yet”……
I envy my fallen brothers.
© Tony McNally
