I'm not sure if I've posted this up already, I'm sorry if I have, but I can't remember. I've got a very bad memory at the moment:
Slowly he fell,
Falling to the ground and there, laying motionless,
A crimson drop traced its way across his body,
Another drop to join the ever widening pool.
Hitting it and causing ripples that flow outwards like an exploding star,
They seem to go on forever,
Never reaching the edges of the pool,
Will they ever reach the end?
He lies there now, next to another who clutched a sword,
They all lie there,
What of their hopes? Their dreams and fears?
Will they be added to the pool also?
Will no one remember them?
He is cold now,
Resting beneath the stars,
Will no one throw him a cover?
Will no one dab him with a warm cloth?
Who will tell his wife that her husband will not return?
Who will tell his children that their father is not coming home?
Who will praise his deeds?
Who will remember just another drop?
Not I,
For I am just a ripple upon this pool,
Many dreams I have heard,
Much pain I have seen.
I lie there now,
Next to them all,
But what can I do for them,
I am just a rippleā¦upon this ever widening pool.
Thoughts and critisism welcome