nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

THIS WRETCHED GROUND

The battle it has ceased
Many comrades strewn around
The dead and the blinded
The bomb craters crackle loud
The rising steam and heat
Fills lungs with acrid air
I dream of home and family
Wishing I was there.

Life it ebbs
But slowly
Upon this wretched
Piece of ground
The wounds are not
So painful now
Theres a calm
With natures sound.

But slowly now
Yes once again
Life it ebbs
All is sane
Natures song
All around
To die upon
This wretched ground.