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War Child

S B Ingle

Monday, March 6th, 2006

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Horizontal lines
across the pitch
Forlorn figure stretchered away
“Dig a hole and flippin’ bury him”
comes the hollow cry
from hollow minds

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The litle girl cried
from her seat on her Dads shoulders
This was 1945
Thoughts of death were alive
She’d watched the scene before
During the war
No words her Dad said
Could convince her
That the man carried off wasn’t dead
They had to leave the ground early
Homeward bound

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 It was the first game she’d been to
And the last
The years passed
She never could understand football
Or why she never saw her Dad again
After the war
No words they said
Could convince her
That her Dad was dead
He had to leave early
Homeward bound

© S B INgle 6.3.06

Notes

Inspired by a true story and embroidered by a melancholy Monday

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/war-child/