by Sid de Knees

Created on: June 14, 2008   Last Updated: June 15, 2008

A sonnet from the frontline.

When silence falls across this line,
I try to write a thought or two,
conveying heart felt, love and hope,
as all us soldiers do.

So many friends have been sent home,
in one way or another,
I dare not tell that they are loam,
and hailed a fallen brother.

But I will write, to my sweet-heart,
asking for her hand to wed,
unless those shells my foe depart,
on landing leave me dead.

And if I'm found in loam and mud,
don't mourn for me I'm doing good.

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