Dead Mates

On a hot summer’s day, to war they go,

To fight upon the shores of Gallipoli’s flow.

Against the enemy, they feel quite bold,

While the foe believes they’ve crossed a threshold.

The impact of the enemy strikes hard as steel,

And the agony strikes like nettle’s appeal.

The comrades formed while on this quest,

When they fall like stones, it fills you with unrest.

What followed in battle was truly dire,

The tragedies endured were immensely dire.

Amongst poppy fields, their graves lay spread,

With their names inscribed on shields of gold thread.

The agonizing letters sent back home,

Left parents sorrowful, left to roam.

All conveyed the same sorrowful refrain,

“Your son’s remains we could not maintain.”

As the grieving mothers wept and sighed,

The bodies aboard the planes, they took their ride.

So, my friends, this is the tale,

Of Australia, where glory does prevail.

Written by Jesse, aged 11