You lay him under the sun,
down there on the muddied earth;
you and another soldier
wearied out by hot battle
day after day and of night.
The young soldier was dying;
blood coming out as he spoke;
didn't know what he'd spoken:
not prayer or praise nor poor joke.
There were others near by him,
some of them worse or were dead,
without limbs, some without head,
some in rhe mud half buried.
That one you watched as he died,
his eyes open, staring out
at the cold grey sky above;
he didnt die from hatred,
But the simple lack of love.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
You lay him under the sun,
down there on the muddied earth;
you and another soldier
wearied out by hot battle
day after day and of night.
The young soldier was dying;
blood coming out as he spoke;
didn't know what he'd spoken:
not prayer or praise nor poor joke.
There were others near by him,
some of them worse or were dead,
without limbs, some without head,
some in rhe mud half buried.
That one you watched as he died,
his eyes open, staring out
at the cold grey sky above;
he didnt die from hatred,
But the simple lack of love.
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