FIELD GUNS

 

A pair of field guns stand

Backs to the castle

Redundant barrels

Harmlessly aimed

At the high street

A sign reads

'Please do not

Climb on the guns'

As if children

Could pose a threat

To these two

Retired killers

Worn with age

Weary with boredom

Never to speak again.

 

We stare for a while

Examine them closely

Find nothing but paint

Uneven and flaking

Wheels fixed to the ground

We walk on a short distance

And then glance back

At the insolent guns

Still longing for the order

That never comes.