Guns divorced from trembling hands
The road home can now be followed
Plant seeds in the mud of no man’s land
Today survivors can plan all their tomorrows
France and Belgium shall house the many graves
The fallen recumbent amongst their fellow braves

Reunite relived mothers with their flustered sons
Who have changed so much across the channel
Forced to put down college books and pick up guns
Forced into a world that any man would toil to grapple
Must of hated been there though they could not blench
From the Kaisers merry henchmen above the trench

Engrave posthumous names on the cenotaph
Those who won't sail home those who succumbed
Remember them always as the years crawl past
The eleventh hour the eleventh day the eleventh month
Now make the most of this new found peace
For another twenty one years at least


The End

4 comments about this poem Feed