Brothers In Arms

Sometimes you have to cross great voids

With arms that know you well;

That feel, before the bend arrives

That you are steeped in hell.

 

That scoop you up, then drive you on,

To make your final stand;

Then jettison your flailing arms

To lunge toward the sand.

 

The time will come to take the piss,

My brother- not today;

For we are steeped in glory, both-

In each and every way.

 

© Tom Tide 2016

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