War - Ww1 - Returning Home Poem by Paul Warren

When I answered the bugle's call I was just a lad
My father gave his nod so as an ANZAC I was glad
Through the battles my war was not weathered well
When I returned to home my face reflected the hell

There were mates who we left on the field
As we fought for one another refusing to yield
But there is always a price to pay
In the mud blood and sacrifice that doesn't go away

So when I left those fatal shores
Wanting Home and my family evermore
I was off the ship at Outer Harbour with my father standing there
And for fifteen minutes he didn't recognise my stare.

© Paul Warren Poetry