The Fallen

I wrote this after walking along the side of the Thames in November 2018, 100 years after the end of World War I.

The Fallen

On a crisp November day
under a listless pale blue sky
I saw, beneath my feet,
Autumn's fallen.
A multitude of shades and hues,
all shapes and sizes,
scattered on the earth.

The dirty earth
where some, among the first to fall,
were merged with the mud.
Trodden down by those
whose only goal along the path
was the next half mile.

Some still looked alive,
blown away in their prime.
Too young
to lie like this
among the dead.

Some remain above this realm of death
Hopeful as they face the sun
As Time's swift river passes by
Until at last their race is run.

Tim Fellows 2018