FicWad

A plain white tank on a deep green hill,
Struck by shafts of morning light.
Unseen by eyes of men who kill
Nor by men with eyes
That stay shut

A plain white tank in golden sun,
Surging with dated gallantry past.
A khaki mouse with a cold black gun,
Who sees not what he wants
Not to see

A plain white tank on a burgundy field,
Humble mud stuck to plain white treads.
Chooses not who is cloaked by this purified shield
Nor who it can’t help
It rolls over

A truck rolls by in a coloured parade
An impressionist crowd in pastel looks on
Cheering and waving, letting it pass
Welcoming their brave troops home.

They have not seen the mud on its treads
Or the murderers in khaki
Or the bodies in red
They cannot see the plain white tank.



** reviews/criticisms welcome! -E