The Bugle Call – Ian Duquemin

The bugle called, yet no-one came
Out from the blood, the mud and the rain
Silenced the call left an empty space
A barren, desolate place
Rusty wire entwined with hair
Had ripped the flesh in its tangled snare
And darkness covered this land of red
Hiding the glorious dead
Prayers of loved ones were never heard
By those in trenches left here interred
Eyes that witnessed such hurt and pain
Stared lifeless upon the slain
One hundred years have come and gone
And with each new and thankful dawn
That bugle to this day is blown
Calling them back home

Ian Duquemin