Ghosts from the Fog

They move hazy, heavy in their weightlessness
through the foggy fields
confusion fills their faces
as their clothes tell stories of bygone eras
They are drowned in a misty light
shining eerily through the pre-morning darkness.

I see them, but feel no fear
only a concern for the lost souls
for they are lost,
they are seeking a place of refuge
a place to call home.

Slowly they march across fields
reenacting the very battles that left them here
dead
there's nothing left for them
these soldiers
all has moved on without them.

But still everyday
they battle and long for home
scared
or fearless
I cannot tell.
But sad and lonely
I can see distinctly