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,
Or shanks’ ponies – all depends –
And dogs, who have to earn their keep
As guards or hunters, or as friends.
There’s a wall to offer shelter,
Because winds 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.

2 thoughts on “Outpost

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