Summer days in June.
Do ghostly battles rage across
The misty fields of France
And if we listen closely now?
hear the sounds of their advance
Do the ghosts of the infantry,
in open battle order march?
Was that a man’s last despairing
scream, across the river marsh?
All at once a hot steel splinter,
Quick sudden spurts of blood
Flesh flayed down to ivory bone
Soaks the blood bespattered mud
In that quiet moment of early dawn
Was that the sound of war, now far away
Are wounded here? Waiting to be saved
But that was long ago, on a summer’s day
And yet in this quiet lonely moment
When all natures voice came still
Across the ripe swaying corn fields
The battlefields, where we came to kill.
And yet, I still hear the guns of Normandy
But that was long ago, in the distant past
The loss of friends, when we were young
Their memory forever lasts
-Brian Guy-