Gathering dust and clinging webs
The attic cache lies in wait
Trunks and boxes long untouched
The time has come to investigate
Sepia photos, cracked and faded
Sticking pages, broken binding
Letters home, bound with twine
The tales of war, I am finding
Peruse the pictures, study the faces
So full of youthful determination
His postures straight, those twinkling eyes
Would soon be witness to an extermination
Ravaged, disfigured, lungs burned by gas
Returned to England, the war barely survived
Haunted by nightmares, wracked by cough
This broken man came home to die
War upon his sweetheart, laid the burden
Tore away the chance for a happy life
For the babe that quickened in 1914
Was all that he left his beloved wife
(Header image: The Ypres Salient at Night – Paul Nash, artist)



