The soldier’s sleep

The soldier’s sleep

At five thirty he rises - takes time dressing for daily battle with stair and kerb
Breakfast precise, logic concise, resistance strong
The day mapped out in great latitude, chapter and verse, expectant.

My grandfather who trod in blood-red fields
Carried shrapnel in legs that never healed
Waits for kettle to boil and toast to pop
The morning news and the ticking clock

By seven he’s sketched quick trips to post office, chemist and bank
Then lunch, tea, dinner, a beginner each day as the century attacks
And all of us will only ever skim the surface

Of this paradox of a man who took damage to brain
Stumbled lethargic through mud spattered rain
Now hauling still broad frame into sheets crisp, replete
With the dreams unforced of the soldier’s sleep