Upasana Banerjee Poet Free verse

Rest Well, My Soldier

The men marched by with their heads held high,
Flowers and garlands in the air as the crowd cheered,
The little boy watched with eyes of wonder,
Straining to see through the mass of grateful onlookers.
"I can't see!" He shrieked in nervous excitement,
As the father picked him up on his shoulders.
His blue eyes sparkled with awed admiration,
When one from the troop turned towards him.
His father saluted - he followed suit,
And the man smiled with a nod of acceptance.
As the day came to an end and the streets emptied,
The duo walked back home over the scattered petals.
"I want to be him, papa!" the boy said,
His voice that of a determined four year old.
The father chuckled as he put him down,
His hand going up in a salute for his son.

Fifteen years and not much has changed,
Except for the war that wrecked the city now.
Death and starvation a constant companion,
Distant gunshots the only lullaby children slept to.
The streets were crowded once again,
As barely nourished men crawled the lanes.
The men in khaki carried home a box with pride,
No flowers and garlands this time around.
A blue eyed boy barely out of his youth,
Laid inside in a peaceful slumber.
A voice rang out amongst the masses,
"Papa! I want to be him!" his wail echoed through the night.

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