Row by row they bide serenely
Waiting for the break of day,
When war will send them crashing forward
To keep the other side at bay.
Patient soldiers, drilled by daydreams,
Await deployment from their box.
Conflicts rage ‘tween lunch and dinner,
Campaigns cross lacquered table tops.
Not for love and not for honour,
Not for freedom, thrill or gold.
None of these now spurs the general
As they will once he grows old.
Tiny hands bear tiny weapons,
Snatched up when they heard the call.
Never will they ache or suffer
Or cry in anguish as they fall.
Perfect little figures topple,
No blood or grime pollute their wounds.
Cleared away once play is over
To fight another battle soon.
I used to love creative writing when I was younger, but it's been about a decade since I've tried it. Hope someone likes this.
Created: Jun 22, 2012Hcascade Document Media