Shattered Spire

How easily dust settles on sullen heads,
when trudging through cud and mire
with a gait that spans astride the dead  
toe pointed for that rusted spire.
 
Remember the height behind that tower,
before the sullen legion marched,
like that grace of an iron flower
in desert soil parched.
 
Broken earth and shattered heights,
make for shallow breath.
when bayonet and bullet bright,
ride forth in hellish death.