Richard Allen Beevor

Silver Star - 4,398 Points (23 March 1949 / London)

The Losing Game - Poem by Richard Allen Beevor

We're just living out our time,
we know we'll lose it all,
this home built on a dream,
now nightmare comes to call.

Don't dare to turn your face away,
don't look into the past,
the lonely echos of regret,
will drive sorrow deep and fast.

What shall we do with the little ones,
those creatures that give us light,
cast them out into the rain,
send them to their death as others might.

They say you cannot take it when you go,
well some of us cannot take it now,
we dreamed a dream of what would be
but daylight steals that mighty vow.

So now we sit to pass the time,
into depression though we sink,
each day no hope for minds in fear,
stare at our home and think and think......

Topic(s) of this poem: loss

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 23, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 23, 2016

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