AL (02/12/91 / England)

Trenchers Feet

Them trenchers feet with knees knelt,
his brown eyes of soil washes away,
soldiers some ran, some they felt,
grass fields, or graveyards gray.

The trenches deep, like pits some fell,
stands there, wears the blood of war,
he cries endless fear as bullets yell,
knows of years of pain, he swore.

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Comments (1)

For a beginning writer, you have a nice beginning.