Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
Soaked to the bone and covered in mud.
It'd be Christmas soon, but the Germans will still be here,
And here in the trenches there'll be no festive cheer.
She busies herself with multiple chores.
Whilst trying to think about her husband at war.
It'd Be Christmas soon, she must prepare,
But without him here there's no festive cheer.
He crawls down the trenches, sweat dripping down his face,
Staying down low quickening his pace.
The bright winter sun is high in the air,
A brisk cold wind gives him the chills whilst ruffling his hair.
She briskly marches down the street,
Christmas dinner must be brought soon.
She glances at the bright winter sun in the air.
A brisk cold wind gives her chills and messes up her hair.
Today is Christmas day but no one smiles.
There was a gas attack last night, many died,
But it's Christmas day and I hope she's fine
I hope I'll be back soon, and we'll be together till the end the time.
She stares at the dinner in front of her; it's enough for two,
There's a picture by the door she smiles and thinks,
' It's Christmas day I hope he's fine,
He'll be back soon and we'll be together till the end of time.'