(13/30) The Game

The dreaded thirteen... well, if you have triskadekaphobia that is. Thankfully I don't and I'm not sure that's something the poor chap in this piece will be worrying about either :-(

Compromise 3/5

The Game

The last message has been sent.
Last one from me now.
This radio's a lifeline
To those back at home
Who relied on information
For safety;
To me here abroad
Who relied on transmission
For sanity.
Back and forth
When we could.
Probably more
Than we should
But as often as we needed.
Now tired eyes need sleep
- I think that was the door
Splintering; heavy steps below -
Lids now to close
- The ladder is creaking -
Just time to glance at
The last missive sent
-They're getting closer -
"The game's up old boy
But we can't call you in
Roger's sold us out,
Called you out we're afraid.
Shutting down. Toodle pip.
Your country thinks well of you."
-The trapdoor is shaking
Cracking, splitting -
Time for a dream now
So I'll just take a drag
On my metal cigar.