Hark!
Their valiant march.
As done, liquid drips on their wretched leather boots
Not sweat or blood,
But tears-
Each a friend or an ally,
Reflected in tears.
Each blood stained gun:
A victory!
Or an innocent life.
Of a man condemned in the other trenches
Fighting another’s battle.
Deprived of sheltering;
Beneath the twisting tangle,
Of these Edwardian times.
Full alert
Till the cannons spurt…
Is this one for me?
Blackness
Blackness
Blackness
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