Dear Sergeant Honey

OPW stands for

Other People's Work.

Tiny Soldiers

Hear the music drifting,

wafting on the wind,

hearts and drums are beating

Gabriel's trumpet

leading in.

Onward

march the sacred

scared

confused and noble men.

It used to be a game

played beaneath

the jungle gym.

All sides chosen randomly;

coin toss,

short stick,

count ten.

Odd's fort the metal swing set,

evens take the slide of tin.

It lasted just 'till lunchtime

or when twilight called an end.

Grass stains and tomorrow's baseball

did not demand a win.

Now;

coffins

in a foreign land,

tears soaked up in gin.

Spilt milk and tomorrow's

emptiness

curse the game created

by war's laughing gods

called men.

Debbie Hilbish-copyright 2010