Millennium War

There are no posters pinned to walls.

No gas mask hanging by my door, 
No ration book within my bag 
Nor menace in the skies above.

I know that when I get to work
My careless talk will not lose lives, 
Nor will I dig for victory 
Or fight for freedom on the beach.

The tiny screen from which I view the world 
I hold within my hands.
Where enemies may pixelate
And mediocrity is great

Disaster strikes 8 inches high
Played out by others, cast unknown
Not Mrs Brown's son, 3 years gone
or that young girl who lived next door.

Not on some battlefield unnamed
But in an overcrowded ward
Where battles won and battles lost
Play out with unrelenting chord

There are no posters pinned to walls
No gas mask hanging by my door
Instead a silent gratitude
For those who risk what I may lose.

A legacy to those before
And those today and those to come.
A cast of thousands brave, unknowns
Each one a hero , each unsung.