The Old Soldier

The picture stared down at the old man Good times, friends for life The decomposing body was in its second year now The dust and webs had cloaked him like a blanket Giving him comfort that life denied him Time ago, they would have classed him as a hero, time ago The black van took him away Eventually releasing the body for burning The prayers were brief His final epitaph came when the council cleared the house The picture was the last to go in the skip Glancing at it, the worker remarked to his colleague Old soldier.