I wrote this poem when I was 9-years-old, in London, England. This poem is a free verse, and thus, does not follow any specific rhyming scheme.

Proud as peacocks they marched down the street,

Slowly they went down the trenches,

Back home, Mum was treasuring pictures,

Throwing shells over their heads,

Misery filled their hearts,

Would I even live to see tomorrow?

Brave as a lion they shot the bullets,

Exhaustedly they walked to the safe side,

On the other side enemies were throwing shells,

They walked holding each other’s backs,

Tears flooded their eyes,

What will happen to my family?

As free as butterflies we fly,

We live happily side by side,

The field is now filled with joy,

But we feel sad for those who died,

We now live peacefully,

We will remember them!