by | Jun 5, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

The Cenotaph soldier stands a post
a glorious youth from a slaughter of ghosts.
His soul enthroned for all to see
Lee from Enfield 303.

He never got beyond the trench
where life was worn-out, warred and wrenched.
He fell as night, in nameless place
and frozen earth enclosed his face.

So now he guards a stone boscage
let peace explode, and Armistice charge.
This unknown warrior long remembers
…unconditional death surrenders.


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