Broken Dreams

His father a miner as his father before

The thought of the pit, his mind did deplore

A new path he chose, though a path so short

Leaving youth behind, no more to cavort

With Innocence of youth, and ignorance of grief

For king and country, was his one true belief

Seduced by glory and childhood dreams

To do his duty, against all extremes

The phoney war over, the battle began

He took up arms, against Hitler’s master plan

The glory of battle and no thought for regards

His only dream: The Inniskilling dragoon guards

To stem usurpation, of England and ally

Fascist rule, he fought to deny  

In the fields of France, by his comrades he stood

Gerry fired first shot, and shed first blood

Dunkirk to his back and the enemy he faced

He stood his ground and gave no grace

Demise of his comrades, the blood and the gore

This broken dream, was the reality of war

Though mortally wounded, his head held high

For truth and liberty, he was proud to die

The lament in his heart, was his only pain

His parents and siblings, he will never see again

He prepared for his maker, with no fear of death

With thoughts of old England, he drew his last breath

With no wife to grieve and no sweetheart to mourn

He was laid for perpetuity, one misty spring morn.

                                                                           Copyright © 2007 Mick Coyle