A War Lament
Two soldiers under the sun
Dust ran down their backs, tickling like an army of ants.
Two child soldiers trained , loved and lusted in Huddersfield.
Found themselves fighting in some other field,
In which was planted bullets and grenades,
Two pals who had been through a lot
Who blew on forget “me not’s”
George and Arthur, two soldiers rubbing shoulders,
Some limbs once belonging to George fell silently from the heavens,
Were scattered by a blast and buried in a shell hole.
And Arthur who was caught by a tank, his nicotine teeth slid
Like sweetcorn from its tracks.
In Huddersfield a girl sobbed.
In Huddersfield, a wife was left with a shell hole,
Where once her heart had been.