To Sarah...

I am the last Edwardian,
I am the last of my kind
I have walked these fields for you
and held you near, dear
and now I drink my gin
in fear for tomorrow
I may not be here, and this
could be my final post to you,
as I look into your eyes
everyone around me
dies, in this is the darkest night of the year,
I sit down and write, before the fight
my final words of love
to you and I offer you my head
on a silver tray, like a man
I once knew,
who came to you
as John the Baptist.
and to whom I pray, so
I long to return to my sacred ground
to keep the most precious soul I have found,
so near, so remember this,
my dear, as I drink my gin in fear
that I have searched for you
among the distant shores,
the night crawlers and whores,
and I keep coming back
to your eternal smile
and I know, that this
my final sacrifice,
will not be in vain,
despite the wounds, the pain
in the rank and file, and maybe
there will be another time
for you and I, my dear,
a time to fly and not to die,
a time to love and not to cry,
so tomorrow as I stand,
at the gates of my Jerusalem,
I shall not let temptation have its way,
but rather I shall wait until the day,
when I see your face again on
London's tired streets,
with its beggars and sweets,
and I can hold you near
and drink my gin without fear.


-In the trench, 1917.-