Poetry

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I lied about my age
To sign up, true.
I thought I would be
Happy with the troops.
Still wet behind my ears,
I soon recalled,
The misery, the suffering,
The fall.

I thought to write, dear Mum,
I knew you'd fret.
I'm doing fine, don't worry,
Cos I bet all is well in
Brick Lane, do you recall
As a kid, me & Mick
Would pinch from stalls?

Mum, I miss your dinners,
Miss your tea.
Miss the oatmeal biscuits
You gave me.
At times I miss me Dad,
He loved his brew.
'Member how he poured it on his saucer too?

It's dark here, Mum.
It's cold, I see the moon.
It's hard to sleep
When hearing gunshots boom!
Sometimes I do pretend
I'm home and dry.
Sometimes, ashamed to say
I often cry!

The lice Mum, oh, I'm crawling,
Itching too!
They say tomorrow, hopefully,
We'll move!
My mate, he took a bullet
In his chest.
He was my mate,
I never will forget.

The big shots,
They expect us to salute.
We're half starved,
On our knees now,
Muddied boots.
We've watched the sunrise,
Now we watch it set.
We've watched men die,
Tell me, how to forget?

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