I have a bar of colours on my chest that are meant
To signify my years of long public service I’ve spent
But what do they really mean as I look at them now?
Is it for some deeds I’ve done and never taken a bow?
Or is it for those I put away or at the time I found a way
For others to live their lives to survive for another day
They decorate my uniform and show this was my life
There to take away society’s ills that were always rife
People don’t think of you as how it is to front up every day
The test is when we met it was a close call in the way
They were taken to account for behaviour they had done
Or if fined counted as that day was not one they had won
So at the end is it all just colours on dark blue?
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem