In the trench alone.
when will I go home?
From No mans land I hear another moan.
surely, he will not go home.
Mans fight to the death.
"Please come home" our nearest say under their breath.
Blood turns the mud red.
How many more boys and men will go home dead?
A moments silence.
Bird song.
A trickling stream.
It's just a dream.
Mustard gas!
Barbed wire!
Gun fire!
In the trench alone.
When will I go home?