72: Custer’s Last Stand, 1951, by Quentin Reynolds (1902–65)
A longtime fascination dawned
Some 60 years ago. A wand
Of Western magic waved across
My world—and mixed a saucy sauce
Of action and adventure—fights
That thrilled my days and filled my nights.
And Custer’s tale—in YA form—
Created such a perfect storm
Of interest that I’ve kept alive
Since back in 1955–
Or when it was that I first read
Of General Custer—all those dead.
Since then I’ve visited the scenes—
The grave, the homes—by any means.
I’ve stood upon the battlefield—
Where, finally, he broke and kneeled
While Western tribes swarmed over all
In victory—yes, Custer’s Fall.
I’ve read so many books since then—
They line my shelf, where this one’s been
Since I was but a curious boy
Who learned how conflict can destroy.
No comments:
Post a Comment