Marching, Marching, Marching

• Rachel Hilfers, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2007

I was only a young lad
The chance of going to war I never had
To be a hero for my country
Standing tall, my head held high
Marching, marching, marching.

I was young but bold and brave
The youngest ANZAC
Leaving friends and family
to be a soldier boy.

I march, march, march to the trenches, to the grave
I spent my days fighting
My nights dreaming
To go home
To be safe.

But still I march in the street parades

The sound of bombs
Still haunt my dreams
Re-living the days
From 50 years ago

To this day I go marching, marching, marching
but only in dreams.