We live a life in colours, quite restrained,

That do their best to keep us entertained.

We live in black and white and green and grey,

And celebrate the coming of each day,

The passing of the winter into spring,

When nature blossoms and the birds will sing.

And in the background war will have its turn,

As dark skies thicken and the houses burn.

Look up above and taste the evening rain,

Which trickles pink along the night-time drain,

As stricken armies crumble in the mud,

Before the summer’s roses break their bud.

In frenzied autumn snow, to no avail

We see a soldier’s undelivered mail.

Soon lightly sprinkled hedgerows make their peace

With distant growling guns about to cease.