Millions and millions of crosses
standing in long rows.
Standing as a testament
of man’s inhumanity to man.
Their ages range low to high,
all casualties of a war
in which they answered
their counties call.
Their kin are long dead now,
but the crosses all bare a name
of someone who had they lived
might have gained fame
in another game.
However, here they lie
where the pretty flowers grow
after giving up their life
for their country.
Some are remembered
even to this day
for their acts of courage
others knew so well.
The others are just names
carved in memorials somewhere
as falling in a battle on a foreign soil.
All of them had a life
men, women and child alike.
A life they should have lived
and lived it to the full.
Now all they remain
is names on crosses
standing in long rows.
22 January 2008
This is for all those whose lives have been stolen in wars throughout the centuries.
It is a sad sight to behold David, all those lads taken in their youth. One could weep so easily for them. I wish people would learn by their sacrifice, but somehow history always repeats itself. Love tribute here. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very sad piece here David...like Ernestine said...too bad we can't learn something from all those rows