Those who did come home were changed forever. but too many never reached their home shores again. I like on Armistice Day to particularly remember those who never came home.
Here I will sit for all eternity
It’s cold…… ice cold,
Lichens cover it completely, it’s so old;
Letters and numbers carved into its face,
Lined up like soldiers, alone in this place.
I sit cross legged in front of one stone,
Until I realize, I sit here alone;
The grass beneath me is soft, cool damp moss,
As I gaze at the letters lying under the cross.
Staring at a name; in fact it’s my name
When suddenly I realize, that’s why I came
To look at the carvings cut deep in the stone,
And comprehend that name, that name is my own.
I sit here each day, not aware of the time,
But knowing the flowers by the graveside are mine.
Murdered and killed in the pouring rain,
Now I know how I was slain.
For I was taken ahead of my time,
Cut down by a gun at the height of my prime,
The trigger was pulled with no remorse,
I fought hard to live, but in the end died of course.
It was raining that day, the day that I died,
When men wept for comrades, and the women they cried,
The battlefield ran with rivers of blood,
And dead bodies piled in high in a human flood
It’s quiet now as I sit in front of this tombstone,
With a name carved upon it, a name that’s my own.
The graveyard’s now called a War Cemetery,
And here I will sit for all eternity.
LEST WE FORGET – he never came home