Unused shrouds are stored
Against their time of use.
Over the field a party rides
Under flag of truce.
The victor and vanquished
Will talk of peace,
Share bread and wine
Though not quite at ease.
Hostages may be taken
Against a future war.
Maybe uneasily a peace
Will spread once more.
The widows are forgotten
Their only relief
The others of their kind
With whom to share their grief.
Crows flock in endlessly
From darkening skies
To claim the unburied
With their dead staring eyes,
Soon to be plucked out,
Savoury treat,
Added variety
To the fresh new
