What is there left but to put down my gun?
To know that my duty has been finally done
The uniform on me shows an older man's figure
My last posting shows that I had some rigour
There now is less spring in my stride
Only what's left for a copper and his pride
How will I be remembered as I tread the final ground?
Knowing that as a copper I will now not be around
There would be people who felt they were harshly treated
For what they had done against the law and with what was meted
Who's to say as I reached for the last day
That I would have had it any other way.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem