War

• Keelin Murphy, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2007

Creep over the final hill,
Take it and feel your pride,
But wait and listen for the enemy,
Your fate may lie behind.
The choppers fly over your head,
Scaring the animals to hide.
A ricochet has just been heard,
Sergeant John just died.
General’s orders are to pull back,
Rumours are being spread.
About the end of death and destruction,
Of tears people shed.
So smell sweet surrender,
The sound of a cease fire.
Let the weapon leave your hands,
Mourn the loss of men in green attire.