Bloodied and Torn
They sang their songs prettily enough,
down on their way to the boats
with locks of lavender tied,
twining about their arms.
Fresh, summer boys
with smiles on their faces
and dreams of glory bright in their eyes.
The wives and mothers stood,
tightly holding back tears
while the children stared,
some in wide eyed wonder, some in fear
as their fathers sailed away.
The old men looked on impassively
for they had the truth of it.
Many of their sons were there,
lining bravely on to the boats,
but not so many would return,
and those that did would be boys no longer,
bloodied and torn by the realities of war.
Also, if anyone cares to read it I turned the poem I scrapped into a short, short story; http://www.tidypub.org/phoNv
And very sorry to hear about your father Neutrality, my condolences :(