Art by Vitaly Glovatsky (I am unable to discover its title)


Out here, we see them all come by, 
All those that come this way, that is – 
The trails round here are sparsely-spread, 
And we are kind of hard to miss. 
There may be horses, may be camels, 
May be llamas – all depends – 
And dogs, who have to earn their keep 
As guards or hunters, or as friends. 
There’s a wall to offer shelter 
Since wind and tigers can’t be tamed – 
And then there are the soldiers, 
For even barren parts are claimed. 
So is it lonely ?  Not as lonely 
As the eagles overhead – 
And all will come this way in time, 
There’s nowhere else to go instead.

One thought on “Outpost

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