Battle Of The Somme - British Perspective

• Raymond Sun, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

In the distance, far away
Not a sound, just fields and plains
Beneath the soil, through mud and stench
He prepares to rise, from his trench
The whistle sounds, it’s now or never
Who knew if he, will be lost forever
Bullets shot, like a pierce from a spear
He stumbles down, trembling with fear
He falls to the ground, and looks above
The grey sky full of fleeing doves
He hears the sounds of those all suffering
They’ll never reach and reached for nothing
The mud around, left painted red
He gasps for his final breath
A flag waves, from half a mile
A bright red cross, one last smile