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Last Camp -The snow battered our faces As we trod this barren white land Freezing was not an option now... For we felt nothing of our limbs Five miles a day was the goal The Devil blocking every inch of our way In our tents the four of us laid In quiet solitude Reflecting on life's hurdles - It can't be long before we make next camp! Said one in dithering frost bitten anticipation One started to write with frost bitten fingers In his log about the journey The entries were getting shorter - He managed to finish the last sentence... Looked at the others who were sleeping Knowing this was the end...he prayed for his family the King and England...his last thoughts before drifting off into that never ending sleep... 'I hope the world remembers us' Signed Capt Robert Falcon Scott B... Written By B.R.Walker Copywriter 2008 UK Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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