Faded Away
by cricketjeff on April 28, 2011. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
In a corner, overgrown by endless years and tangled weeds,
Lies a cold grey slab of granite, all that’s left of shining deeds
Of a man who once told stories to the children on his knee
All about the fates of nations and the wars that kept them free.
Though his name is hard to read now, and no-one recalls his face,
There’s a little bit of England that is still his special place.
He left home before he should have, joining up to play his part,
Like the others in his village he was keen to learn the art
Of a brave a flashy soldier with a rifle at his side.
Full of youth’s unkempt bravura and some fears he couldn’t hide.
Far away across the oceans he fought other people’s fights
And discovered British soldiers are not mediaeval knights.
There were Zulus by the thousand, there were Afghans by the score,
There were endless hours of jankers scrubbing clean the barracks’ floor,
But he never lost the sparkle that his dreams put in his eyes
And he never once suspected that the promises were lies.
He became a grizzled sergeant, looking out for beardless boys
Who had dreamed of fame and glory and who now knew battle’s noise.
He returned at almost fifty, bought the pub and served up ales
To the men he’d known as schoolboys and regaled them with his tales.
Loved their children when they’d listen to his half remembered boasts
Of the enemies he’d slaughtered and the friends who now were ghosts.
Now he’s finally surrendered, last defences overthrown,
In his uniform and medals he’s asleep beneath the stone.
Author notes
I saw a picture of a beautiful and tranquil overgrown graveyard and this
happened …
English