The Forgotten Heroes

The chill of morning sweeps the streets of Whitehall. Rain falls like tears from the sky onto the Cenotaph stone. I fear the sight of his name, should the pain make me fall, Amongst the crowd I stand here alone No loving words to give me hope, No letterbox clatter with joy renew. So in memories past I sit and study, The pain of loss is deep for you. As I lay here in the silence, I wonder how much father knows, About this nightmare and the darkness that surrounds me. These are the demons that haunt my mind, Longing for death to set me free. No 10 gun salute to make my father proud. Death has taken my ID tag, my title and my name. Would my father disown me? The thought drives me insane! In the deafening silence, I cling on as hope slips away. No news of my son, Tortures every day. I hear his voice in the darkness of night, His image floats above my bed. The boy I sent off to make me proud, Does he lie among the unknown dead? My senses are shattered, body battered, my sight is gone, My head drums out an S. O. S thumping on death’s door. If only a loving touch could soothe me, Oh, to see my father once more! To be able to look upon your face, To be a family once more. When we have always been true and faithful, Why must God allow the horror of war! OH PLEASE GOD! Oh please God!