The Neglected Cross Poem by Lone Dog

I found, by chance, a broken cross
Upon a lonely hill.
`Twas hidden `mongst the grasses tall
Behind an aging mill.

It lay that morn in shamed neglect
Of worn and weathered wood.
Not far from Dunkirk's sandy shores
Where Death and Hell once stood.

I thought about the soldier there
Beneath that ground unkempt.
And if for this forgotten lad
A loved one ever wept.

So well I knew war's hurt and pain;
The gore, the fear, the strife!
For dark on Dieppe's beach I watched
My brother give his life.

Recalling how he suffered there
Before he met his fate,
I knew I could not leave that cross
In such a sorry state.

On bended knee with loving hands
I labored hours on end,
As if, somehow, by fixing it,
My brother's wounds I'd mend.

Now tall it stands, that lone white cross;
A beacon on the hill!
No longer hidden `mongst the weeds
Behind the aging mill.

The soldier, there, now sleeps in peace.
For though his life he gave,
No one had cared enough to fix
The cross upon his grave.