Colin F. Jones


Life has ended.
The grave hides the waste.
Tis for the worms now
To make their haste.
Superstition walks away to live
Where life cannot.
Myth’s tombstones erected
For the have not got.
Memories will die in their turn;
New flowers will bloom,
And more young soldiers,
Will march to their doom…
Sweet life ending,
for them too soon.