The galloping of horses, nostrils all a flare
Charging across the plains, seemingly without care
Bright colored uniforms, the attire of misguided men
Soldiers on horseback, hoping that nothing can stop them
Cresting hills and valleys, the clanging of swords in the air
Sounds of battle growing louder, wildness dispensing with care
Cannons to the right, rifle fire whizzing by
Boots clawing into animal flesh, sweat dripping from brow to eye
The scream of battle, the battle cry of the young
Veteran throats grow somber, falling heroes to be unsung
Banners flapping in the breeze, unit colors strewn aground
Spiraling standards ripped apart, ribbons upon hallowed ground
The hail of shrapnel, the skilled surgeon of fate
Takes horse and rider alike, cast iron keys to heaven’s gate
The sight of victory, beacons forth the troops
Officers swirling sabers, the masses splintering into groups
Trumpets herald forth the charge, horses are hastened faster
Rivulets of blood splatter the ground, only luck separating victory from disaster
The general frowns and gasps, his battle bib stained red
A final breath escapes his lips, his saddle his deathbed
Colonels and majors, how quickly they fall
Heroic men are decimated, yet others move forward to answer the call
Moments become minutes, yet the carnage does continue
Thousands become hundreds, scores become a few
Explosions give way to silence, the enemy gave no ground
No one remained to trumpet retreat, the vanquished make no sound
A battle for nothing, for the dead there will be no aid
For the glory of one’s ego, the death of the light brigade
