POUNDING FEET

I hear them again the pounding feet,
Soldiers are marching down the street.
Military music loud to the ears,
Crowds have gathered I hear their cheers.
Realize not that men are being sent to war.
How many will come home I am not sure.
Soon all hell will be let loose,
The reasons for war are many and confuse.
No one knows who is to blame,
But war will take place yet once again.
Men will die on the battlefields;
The Gods of war will have their yields.
In the face of the enemy bravery will be shown,
Many will die some will come home.
Wounds so terrible to behold,
Young faces will quickly grow old.
No Soldier will be more the same.
His gruesome experiences may turn him insane.
Comrades die to the right and to the left,
In his heart there will be a terrible cleft.
Tears will roll down his cheeks,
As dead and dying comrades he seeks.
The weapons of war have no pity,
Be the soldier from the country or the big city.
All will fight at the Officers call;
Many will die as the bullets fall.
The medics will try to save all that they can;
Surgeon’s skills will save many a man.
Others will be buried on foreign soil,
As they gave their lives the enemy to foil.
I have seen military cemeteries around the Globe
Neatly laid stones surrounded by a green grass robe.
God how I hate to hear the pounding feet,
Of Soldiers marching down the street.