He lay there

He lay there,
no one seemed to care.
Really didn't look so good,
smothered in blood.

I looked in his pocket,
to find a small silver locket.
A picture of his dear wife,
I wished he hadn't lost his life.

A packet of fags,
one little bag.
Small piece of hair,
a tiny teddy bear.

I started to cry,
did he have to die?
He was always there for me,
smiling with glee.

He was gone,
 I had to be brave.
Only to go and save,
my memories from the war.


Zara Wynne