Soldier Grey Poem by R. K. Hart

The young soldier boy stood rain soaked,
In a battle torn, well-worn grey coat.
The coat was drawn at the waist,
With big buckled belt in place.

His coat slashed opened by an enemy's sword,
The result of an attack by the enemy hord.
His boots worn from days of marching to the flute,
They were once a blue coats boot.

He had few treasures the soldier boy,
A small cracked photograph his greatest joy.
He looked at his mother and father with muffled sighs,
And remembered warm pies, and Virginia skies.

His soaked hat and long hair hid a battle worn fear,
As he searched for sight of blue his eye had a tear.
And his thoughts switched from this time of war,
To his hometown girl and farming chores.

Instantly soldier grey was shaken from his thoughts,
Canon blasted taking life, brave young men distort.
Maiming and claiming limbs cutting men down,
Then comes a silence from across the ground.

Minutes passed then came a blue uniformed wall,
First the volley shot and the smoky pall.
Now a bayonet drove out of the smoky mist,
Driven to his shoulder and agonies twist.

Now wounded the soldier grey is down,
On a slush of blood and muddy ground.
He would see years spent in the enemy's jail,
Battles all in his past, no more of deaths wail.

At wars end and grey soldier broken released,
And his thought turn home yet his battle not ceased.
In the north he is still the enemy of old,
Staying out towns walking through snow so cold.

As southern accents as more frequent sound,
His foreboding slowly unwound.
Pats of appreciation on his shoulder,
Little by little he walked a little bolder.

Welcoming rebel yells as he entered home hamlet,
Kisses from mother, sister and sweetest Juliet.
For years he carried the scaring years of war dream,
Marry and farm only half the man that may have been.

But is his now down is the plough and the sword,
They say he has gone home to be with his Lord.
He lived his life considering the futility of war,
Peace his dream and he has it now evermore.

R. K. Hart 30/10/2012