In anticipation of Poppies

In consideration of ways to counter pain.
For Example, words and fragrance
that envelope me insane.
I am:
old,
shrivelled
and
of a behaviour, so I'm told
unsuited for a man of my age;
Damned perhaps...

Pain

It's not that you're entirely wrong,
and that I'm free from the effects
of what you suggest.
It is this though,
and that being,
that this barrage,
whose perpetual rearmament
serves only to keep me down,
weighs against a full recovery.

I can only hope for some day of armistice,
some pitiful respite on which dawn,
we'll embrace across no man's land,
and play ball amongst the craters,
until night becomes,
and we are...
at war again.