Brief Lives

At the end of the week, a last look back with a rondel poem at the Great War, and all wars in which so many die young.

Brief Lives
They have died, while we grow old
Sorrow is a lost lover, and a lost son
Life cut short that has scarcely begun
Barbed wire, mud, misery, and cold

Young men so keen, so fresh, so bold
Dreams of victory, of the spoils won
They have died, while we grow old
Sorrow is a lost lover, and a lost son

Wind among the graves is so, so cold
The distant echo of shots from a gun
Shadows remain, in the setting sun
They have died, while we grow old