The Solitary Soldier

In the virile days of spring

Young men - strong and pure

Go off to wars of unknown lure.

 

Whilst the horns and bells ring;

Jingoistic echoes and songs always noble.

Naked skins in guise of crisp green uniform;

While politician with wagging tongues spit ignoble

Truths to wage and stage an ill form.

 

In the dying days of winter

The aging soldiers sit in wait

For time to return an abated fate.

 

Before the line of white crosses splinter

Across the green fields filled deep in loss

Of the fallen who found peace before old age.

 

While all insanity stares in for cause

Of a life left to ponder in dark silent rage.