MusaKate10

Down in the foxhole An ancient, child and me Wait for the shell's bowl To come and form finally Dug with our tired claws Like vultures on the rotting kill The buzzards fly aloft The crows stay calling in the sill Child learns his fun again With bloody nails and fear The elder struggling digs And I will yet withhold my tears Trench for a grave of three One owing rent with two to pay But all will soon be ones that stay When the fill of fire is spread Down in the earth we lay A lullaby beyond Pouring death upon dismay With softness born, the screams are gone While the elder will not hear He sees a fly of hate The child will soon come to learn