Sorrow of War: Poems

by Louis Golding

LATE

I am very desolate.
I am afraid.
I am alone.
The shadows wait
Till I am laid
Beneath a stone.

I am very desolate.
I can hear feet.
I can see ghosts.
Fear's by the gate,
Death's in the street
By the dark posts.

I am very desolate.
What have I made
Of the dead time?
The night is late.
I am afraid
Of my own rhyme.