silence fills the air,

like a calm before the storm

little boys leave their home,

to become the greatest man

toy soldiers stuck here and there,

they hope to play again

a small comfort, as they march,

and fantasize the world away

great heros will become of them,

their heads held high,

voices filled with song

the excitement covers fear,

they pretend to be so bold

battles rage mercilessly,

as the young boys play

and sourly 'heros' find,

not all is a simple game

out here the bullets sting,

the wounds bleed,

and the heart aches for home

their blood pools on the ground,

mothers sob,

with a reaching sound

as they wait for the return

of the greatest men,

who left as little boys

with battered toy soldiers,

tucked here and there,

hoping to play again

but alas there lies on the ground,

a battered little tin

an arm is missing, the paint is chipped,

forgotten and left behind by the little boys

and sadness fills the air,

as the now bitter boys

slowly march home

never to play again.