Life’s End

Withered soldiers, rose to march.

I wasn’t with them.

I stayed in,

Desperate to go home.

My life was nearly over.

As the lonesome shells crashed behind,

We could only gaze ahead.

***

When the horns of war sounded,

The first of us Brits ran out,

Bang!

Bang!

The first line gone,

Men dieing,

Men choking on their own blood.

***

A dark figure loomed over us,

A spy plane, take cover Tommy.

Ratta-tata-ta-tat!

Joe!

I see him lying their – gone.

***

The death warren

curre non ambulabit!

By Henry

Beech