The Cost Of Freedom Paid By Those In Blood (Sonnet) Poem by Tia Attwood

The cost of freedom paid by those in blood
Those men and women fight for what they love
While charging through vast thickets and throgh crud
In hope to find that olive tree with dove

And leaving those they love and know behind
While grey now paints the vast uncertain sky,
While memories still flood the heart and mind,
Each dawn they pray that this day they don't die,

For yesterday they walked familiar paths
In comforts of their family and friends
Appreciating times when they had baths,
Today in trench they hope the war will end

Now holding onto pictures that they bear
Each night they gaze to stars to rid despair.