ramblings and things

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The Warden surveyed
His latest recruit,
Four foot nothing in
His hand me down suit.
Pinned to one sleeve
His ARP armband,
He held a stirrup pump
And a bucket of sand.


He should have been in school,
Or evacuated, or anywhere. 
There was no way he should
Have been standing there.
The Warden inspected him
With a fierce sense of pride
Blinking and coughing to
Hide tears welling inside.


The band that he wore
Was stained dark red
From one of last week's
Many Air raid dead.
From thousands of feet both
Sides dropped bombs down 
Destroying and wrecking
What was left of the town.


Gone any thoughts
Of which were to blame
Both sided now just
Carried on the same.
He told his new recruit
To stick closely by his side.
He would do all he could
To help him survive.

The Warden had no time
To consider right or wrong
Just parade every night 
In attempt to carry on.
Every street a trench,
Every home a battlefield
Man's inhumanity to man
So starkly revealed.


Less than thirty years after
That War to End All Wars
Bloody conflict was back,
Even worse than before.


 

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