November the 11th at 11am
Hostilities
will halt but they fought right to the end.
I lost a
young soldier, a lover and a friend.
As I stand
in the field and survey the watery golden sun
I wait and
watch the landscape, a battle fought and won.
There’s an eerie
silence, expectant and hushed
That rings
in my ears, the foe it is crushed.
The breeze
ripples by and is turning
To a murmur
of cheering, longing and yearning.
The hands on
the watch reach eleven exact
And the
signatured agreement becomes an act.
Battles stop
and the guns now cease,
Emotions and
tears, not bullets release,
And there is
peace.
By Linda Prince
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