A Father Poem  (1)

 

A world at war, a young soldier.

 

                        When I can

                        I think of home,

                        family,

                        to be far from this,

                        this must be Hell,

                        to be away,

                        my own bed,

                        a place to hide.

 

Now it is that the dead do not dream

and cannot hear words of homage

to youthful sacrifice.

 

________________

 

Home