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The Brothers.
In the middle of a'brew',reinforcements arrive.
Just twelve young men,we expected more,
For casualties had bee many that day.
They drank their tea,looked around,and smoked.
All so young-just boys-tomorrow men!
Reading their names on the movement list,
I searched for the one I hoped had not come.
Then I saw him,no need to ask his name,
The likeness so marked,they had to be brothers,
The one now dead,unable to greet the other.
As I searched for words with which to tell him,
I thought of their mother in Wales,not yet grieving,
For she could not know of her elder son!s death,
Probably thinking with pride of her sons together,
Each taking care,looking after the other.
I had crept down the hedge and carried him back,
His killers now too lay dead,where he died.
And now I must tell his young brother all!
The boy who came to be with his brother,
And in just a few minutes would grow into a man.
