Nineteen eighteen, my twentieth year, War almost over, or so we hear. Whistles blow, along the trench, From yonder, deaths bitter stench. Crossing razor wire, into no-mans land, Bullets scream, a target I stand. Praying to survive, a bursting shell, My body then shattered, there I fell. On a battlefield, wounded, in pain, Never see loved ones, ever again. Fluid of life, slowly ebbing away, Never imagining, this fateful day. In a wilderness, feeling alone, Through night, an incessant groan. All that's left, is love in my heart, For my loved ones, as life I depart. Hazy thoughts, come to the fore, Dead, forgotten, alive no more. Memories fading, through tearful eyes, Trying to remember, amid dying cries. Alone on a battlefield, for life I fight, A soldier fallen, taken this night. Taking my leave, a greater duty calls, Before my eyes, another soldier falls. Looking down, on fields of poppy red, Each one a comrade, soldiers dead. Never forget, those souls so brave, For you alone, their life they gave. Robert Lewis © 1998-2008 Permission Given To Use Poem The Last Post Click To Save Graphics : Copyright Design 2004-2008 Christines Cottage.