Only Tin Soldiers
The child cherished the gift from his dad
Only Tin Soldiers
They were only tin soldiers
in a make-believe war,
lined up in ranks
on the floor of his childhood,
where battles were quiet,
and no one stayed dead.
He gave them names once,
Wrote their stories too,
painted victory across
each small metal face.
He believed in their courage
the way only children do.
Years passed. He still kept them
His hands aged, as he did too.
The box gathered dust.
Then he died.
No last salute,
no trumpet call.
Just a house cleared in silence,
and the tin soldiers,
taken to the sale they made £2
That was all, just £2 a memory.
They were only tin soldiers
in a world that forgot
what they once meant to a child
a little boy who loved his dad ,
Yet still learned how to lose.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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