Tuesday, December 11, 2012


Close by a river called The Somme,
Unshaven and no longer young,
I smile at the sudden calm
And grasp a ladder. Rung by rung,

My eyes climb slowly from the trench.
Above the mud, the men—the curse
Hurled at the silence and the stench
Borne by the wind—I search for words

To describe the indescribable.
Words fail me when I reach the sky—
So bright, so beautiful, so blue.
I wish that I could tell you why.

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