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Stand Down

Stand down
In his bedsit he sits and waits.
Tears fall as he remembers his mates.
In his bedsit alone and forlorn,
No one notices the curtains undrawn.
In his bedsit,amid the damp and squalor,
He can still hear his sergeants holler.
In his bedsit, he sits and stares,
Remembering the noise amid the flares.
The whistle blew and he saw every man,
Go over the top, into bullets they ran.
He too went into that man made hell,
Seeing his comrades fall under the hail,
Running and crawling in the red mud,
Over the wire he went, fear in his heart,
Seeing friends fall and get blown apart.
How he survived those times he doesn't know,
While thousands died both friend and foe.
But survive he did and at last came home,
To walk down his street feeling so alone.
Many years have passed and age takes it's toll,
No one asks him now, talk of war is so droll.
What did you do in the war? No one cares,
No one remembers the old guy upstairs.
So in his bedsit, he sits and waits alone,
For someone to say " Soldier, here is your crown".
Your orders have come for you to stand down.
© Dave Timperley in Remembrance of War, 2018

Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2018

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