Deft and dexterous he was in the war
But upon his return, sullen and glum
Fore a piece was missing and in its stead
A thrumming voice from the battle had come
The town of his birth had fallen ill
Powder, smoke and rot in its breeze
Everyday clamour turned to whimper and cries
As the scavengers feast and then seaward flies
In stricken panic he stormed to his home
Where the brunt of war had adorned its throne
And amidst the rubble, a delicate hand
A ring round’ its finger, of which he had known
He held her hand with a most tender touch
As he weeped before its stiffened shape
Thrumming, the madness of war made its claim
Fore he pulled and tugged till off it came
At the fetid shore he boarded a skiff
With a pile o’ rope and a bag of cement
The thrumming withheld in a hand so stiff
And while the sun rose to sea he went…
August 5th - 2023