Short Slog Poems

Time

Time is a sieve through 
which everything slips
what once mattered 
rendered meaningless
as our lifeblood drips 
onto the clay creating 
a muddy bog that in 
our well worn boots 
we wearily slog 
like tired Tommies 
in the trenches waiting 
with bated breath 
for the shrill sound 
of the officer's whistle
to pierce the fusty
fetid air and send us 
surging over the top in 
a futile foray where we
will meet our final fate
that in our wasted youth 
we failed to contemplate