Usually, I like a tapestry,
Its rhythmic warp and weft.
It’s something that I love to see,
The few pleasures I have left.
I like to see a rural scene,
All natural and bucolic,
With ducks and geese and trees of green,
Or spring lambs in fields a-frolic.
But I have to say, I’m not quite sure
I like the subject that you’ve chosen,
Oh, I admit you can’t ignore,
the sight of corpses, bare and frozen.
But it’s rather a peculiar thing,
To represent war’s anniversary
To depict the blood and suffering,
Then display it in the nursery.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 28/April/2019
I wrote this back in April, but today’s Word of the Day is Bucolic, so it fits.