The Forgotten Soldier

The Forgotten Soldier Clickety clack - clickety clack; the train trundled on empty stations of an old past Lightweight in its endeavours - portraying its only passengers as its unholy cast Each face a palpable grey - their blackened eyes sunken within their vast sockets All sat at their given seats - characteristically sullen - each with hands in pockets One did not have to feel the coldness within each carriage that descended us all As not one cold breath plume emanating from the mouths or nostrils did sprawl The lifeless grey of their eyes gave nothing away of their hell - all past and seen To the horrors of a war of no real moral understanding all thoughts try to glean Each unsung hero now taking his last journey home - each to its own eternal life Each one given their own time to off-load their burdens of the unforgivable strife Only once the reality of what had happened did the train lessen its speed to halt As the one last soldier left his seat then upon the platform made his last assault He was going home now - but with no lessening of the grey paler within his eyes His home a cold grave now - lying under the darken un-forgiving harrowing skies He had fought for his country with an unquestionable honour - now laid - forgot Under a small ensign Portland stone headstone - buried within his very own plot A young man with no wife or child - just parents themselves long-time deceased His secrets of the war held within this mound of earth - remains to all unreleased So if passing a graveyard and upon your eyes a lonely regimental grave you see Place a flower of remembrance and set a well-earned soldier from his sleep - free Indiana Shaw . . .