Dear Mrs.Smith....or Jones....What was his name?
Too many letters I've had to write
until it seems they're all the same.
Oh Yeah! Mrs. Tandy, yeah that's right.
Another kid in my command,
Another name on that dread roll,
Another's blood staining the sand,
Another number added to the toll.
"he was a bright courageous man,
a friend to all who, chance, knew him
He dis and gave all a man can...."
I dare not describe his death, too grim.
God I'm tired in both body and mind
yet duty requires this much at least...
"He was unafraid of being kind.
I'm glad to count him as a friend...."
I dry my eyes from too much...dust.
i sigh and put pencil aside.
what words could this mere mortal write?
I'm not really a man of words
hell, I'm a carpenter back in the world.
"I share your sorrow for your loss......"
Nobody said it'd be this hard
I Hate This Job.
Comments
I enjoyed the read. a nicely
I enjoyed the read. a nicely done narrative.
Greetings
Another venture into the new "morphing" form I've been working on for a while.......stan
a good anit war poem
as old as the history of man, somebody has to inform the family. How could that be an easy job ever?
After awhile i guess those who have that task handle it somehow...
But the poem, albeit formalist and a bit antique, has the message which is always true, and the writing is even and controlled like a good artist can make a drawing out of pen and ink.
Hello
Yes, to have to inform loved ones of ever increasing numbers of casualties under one's command must have been heart rending........stan