Poetry Corner

Glass Warriors – by Romily Whirt

Lined up on the doorstop,
Soldiers without their foil top,
Small see-through battalions,
Stripped of their medallions

They’d fought the war of Cocopops,
The skirmish of hot chocolates,
The battlegrounds of tea,
For coffees paid their fee

Locked up in a cold dark gulag
They could not hoist the white flag,
White blood chilled for freshness,
Both pasteurised and restless

The screech of a an opened gate
The journey rattled in plastic crate,
To Valhalla they think and out of the hunt,
Alas to dairy then back to battlefront



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