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man of war

Not for me the rolling hills

Of a green and pleasant land

But trudging through a muddy field

Or sprayed by wind-blown sand

I do not rest in crisp clean sheets

Laid on a feather bed

Just the harshness of the earth

On which to lay my head

I do not have the luxury

Of breakfast on a tray

Waiting for my mind to clear

Before I start my day

My sleep might last for just one hour

Then shattered by the sounds

Of screaming men and constant noise

Of guns and mortar rounds

No gentle drive to work for me

Or bus ride to the door

No coffee breaks or flexi-time

For I’m a man of war

Don Holmes
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