The Forgotten Soldier

The train trundles on, leaving behind at each station a soldier with his own past Heavyweight in its endeavours portraying its only passengers as its un-holy cast Each face a palpable grey, their blackened eyes sunken within their vast sockets Each sat at their given seats characteristically sullen, with their hands in pockets One only feels the coldness, within each carriage that descended upon them all As not one ice breath plume emanating from the mouths, or nostrils did sprawl Lifeless grey of their eyes gave nothing away of their hell, or of the horrors seen Of a war where no real moral understanding is ever found for any of us to glean Each un-sung hero now taking his last journey home, each to its own eternal life Each one given their own time to offload their burdens of the unforgivable strife Only once the reality of what has 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 pallor 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, lay now as forgot His remains under a white ensign Portland headstone buried within its own plot A young man with no wife, or child, just parents themselves long gone 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