Gunsmoke

Crisp and burning soil,
eating at my skin.
Seeping into my wounds
and all of my friends.
Nothing like the taste of
home. While the rifle sang,
caught in the crossfire.
While the sun screamed,
and my flesh burned.
Memories whisk by:
of my mother, father,
my daughter, my home.
Letting my eyes close,
and falling asleep
one last time.