The Trenches (World War II)

I stand here,
in the pouring rain,
been here so long now,
I fight to remember my name,

These cold,
damp conditions,
Make us numb,
to the bone,
Each one of us,
feels cold  and alone,
As we check,
our ammo and gun,

We are seven feet under,
but we can still see,
looking out for the enemy,
Through the barbed wire,
Mud and guts,
in plain sight,
With the explosions,
that light up the night,

We wrote letters,
to our loved ones,
Last week or so,
Saying My Darling,
How much I love you so,
will I be home,
I just don't know,
and please tell the kids,
How I miss them so,

When night time comes,
we go over you see,
To engage in attacks,
on the enemy,
Not many survive,
the final run,

The explosions of mines,
grenades and the Gatling gun,
But we follow our orders,
to the letter you see,
deserting no option,
for my friends and me,
Sot on site,
to make way for the brave,
It's 1939 and I think It's time,
The sergeants,
blow their whistles,
for us to cross the line,
Pushing us over,
for one last time,

Out of the trenches,
on to the mudded plain,
The explosions,
and gun fire,
again and again,
body parts and shrapnel,
are all that remain,

When I'm gone,
Will you remember my name,
With hurt,
sorrow,
For the children left behind,
or didn't know,

They gave their lives,
for peace you see,
So remember the fallen,
And the living too,
They fought this battle,
for me and you,

Although our hearts,
will be filled with sorrow,
They gave their lives,
In hope,
for a peaceful tomorrow.




Copyright © 2011 John Bevan