Paul Gerard Reed

Waiting For The Call

The air raid sirens wailed

And the bombs began to drop,

Destroyers and battleships sailed

While life ground to a stop;

 

But for us, not the smoke

The shattered glass and dreams,

We are not wrapped in fear’s cloak

The crying and the screams;

 

Where courage rose in veins

When the bugle call was sounded,

The thin air carried it’s strains

Across the dead bodies mounded;

 

But we say hello every day

For love we do not lack,

Not for us to enter the fray

Or loved ones that didn’t come back;

 

Our mettle is untested

No despair in which to fall,

Our spirits asleep and rested

Still waiting for the call.