END OF THE LINE

The heat of a sultry summers’ day and the news wasn’t good, you were going away.   Vow’s made down by the lover’s brook are just trickling memories of the love that you took.   A heart that once was full of life is now just a shell on the edge of a knife.  …

THE SPOILS OF WAR. (Read by Alan S Johnson)

And the troops go marching proudly by as she wipes a tear from her weary eyes, the one that she seeks, she will never again hold for he died at his post; he was thirty years old.   The colours fly high on a cool autumn breeze as man and boy march with well practiced…