A Winter Tale Of War
A biting chill December dawn dressed in borrowed rainbow hue
The startled clanging of the gong echoes across no man’s land
Too late I taste phosgene’s cocktail of death and know this winter tale I will not recount
Clanging bells take up the clamour
Abducting the precious seconds of silence between machine gun fire
On a biting chill December dawn dressed in borrowed rainbow hue
A death cloud of milky grey obliterating the morning sky
I am called to stand on the ‘hate step’ making ready to go over the top
Too late I taste phosgene’s cocktail of death and know this winter tale I will not recount
Barbed wire’s tortured shapes like skeletons impaled imprison me
I massacre some other mothers’ sons
On a biting chill December dawn dressed in borrowed rainbow hue
In the trembling of the earth I touch a cheek
And feel a cooling corpse beset with feasting lice
Too late I taste phosgene’s cocktail of death and know this winter tale I will not recount
The weary gong emits a tinny sound.
I take my place amongst the fallen dead
Beneath a biting chill December dawn dressed in borrowed rainbow hue
Too late I taste phosgene’s cocktail of death and know this winter tale I will not recount
Gemma Hill November 2016 ©
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 
