Lost in the Mud
When the telegraph came, our hearts rose
Filling our mouths like the streets when it snows
We wanted to know what had been done
To my friend and their son
A few months older and already at war
I dread to think of the things that he saw.
I remember the days in the rain and the sun
When we’d go on adventures with many a toy gun.
Now the adventures are real, gun, bomb, and tank track
Now I don’t know if he’ll ever come back.
They say there are trenches – all filled with mud
People get hurt and covered in blood
They stand in the cold, soaked by the rain
Watching their friends screaming in pain.
The din of the guns through day and night
So, I want to know – why do we fight?
In a few months’ time that might be me –
A name on a grave over the sea.