posted 15th September 2024
His creeping heart was full of loss,
Nothing could keep him charging forward.
Not a sign from the God’s above, only darkness and dust,
Only the thought of home could distract his lungful lusts.
He ran forward, nothing came into view,
Only the image of the unlucky few.
His mind drifted to home and happy days,
His favourite pub seemed a world away.
It went quiet on that unhappy day,
A million lives that would never come back our way.
The rockets ceased to fire, but the smoke never went away,
Thousands marched, their feet battered and bruised made them sway.
He stopped short as the pub approached,
The smiling faces seemed an alien sight.
Ready, at any time to expose their hateful souls,
The door creaked as he entered the bar, old Jack was never far.
The Landlord pulled his first merry pint,
The taste was sweat, as he washed it down.
His corner table, providing a comforting chair,
Maybe life wasn’t so unfair.
