The smell of death hangs heavy in the air,
Bodies and carnage lay everywhere.
Staring faces covered in mud and blood,
In the midst of it all, alone he stood.

Looking around at his friends now dead,
The futility of war raging through his head.
Alone he stood in the carnage and blood,
Waiting for that bullet; if only it would!

Why me? why am I still here?
A sudden sharp pain; falling, death draws near.
Guns now silent. The birds singing,
In the distance the Church bells ringing...

By Jim Noond.