The Memorial (From Gazette & Herald)

The Memorial

THE old man sat on one of the hard benches

Near the cross for those who died in trenches,

Watching a boy soldier filled with alcohol

Spraying grafitti with an aerosol.

He fixed the lad he knew with glittering eye:

"Son, unlike you, I am ready to die,

To end dreaming of 'going over the top'.

Hoping each morning for my life to stop.

Yes, I suffered from gas, and a faithless wife,

But each of those men named there gave up his life.

So ruthlessly killed as they charged through the mud

To buy your freedom by spilling their blood.

Vile boy, why do you defile your grandad's name

As it begs you remember - have you no shame?

Embarrassed, the youth slunk away from the scene.

The next morning, he saw that the cross was clean,

He slept well that night, his friends' names in his head,

When the sun peeped through his curtains, he was dead.

Of the tears shed at his funeral, the most

Were from that shamed boy, as he played the Last Post.

Updated: 11:35 Wednesday, July 23, 2003