THE FORGOTTEN SOLDIER
Clickety clack - clickety clack; the train trundled by empty stations of an old past
Lightweight in its endeavours - portraying its only passengers as its unholy cast
Each face a palpable grey - their blackened eyes sunken within their vast sockets
All sat at their given seats - characteristically sullen - each with hands in pockets
One did not have to feel the coldness within each carriage that descended us all
As not one cold breath plume emanating from the mouths or nostrils - did sprawl
The lifeless grey of their eyes gave nothing away of their hell - all past and seen
To the horrors of a war of no real moral understanding all thoughts try to glean
Each unsung hero now taking his last journey home - each to its own eternal life
Each one given their own time to off load their burden of the unforgivable strife
Only once the reality of what had happened did the train lessen its speed to halt
As the one last soldier left his seat then upon the platform made his last assault
He was going home now - but with no lessening of the grey paler within his eyes
His home a cold grave now - lying under the darken un-forgiving harrowing skies
He had fought for his country with an unquestionable honour - now laid - forgot
Under a small ensign Portland stone headstone - buried within his very own plot
A young man with no wife or child - just parents themselves long-time deceased
His secrets of the war held within the mound of earth - remain to all unreleased
So if passing a graveyard; and upon your eyes a lonely regimental grave you see
Place a flower of remembrance and set a well-earned soldier from his sleep - free
Indiana Shaw . . .
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