Summer death…

The hedgehogs (postscript & epitaph)

There were three of them – poor souls –

Old before their time it was said

We fed our brothers as one does

As – unlike us –

It was said that their mother was dead

There were three of them – now two –

One other slung without the pomp

Over the broken wall with shame

We – cowards all –

Had her say that they had gone away

There was one of them – with shame –

The maggots taunting with their smiles

Wicked in their beckoning guiles

One – stomach split –

Had lost both mother and his life

There was one of them – their mum –

Old before their time we had said

Crushed by a rubber bomb slow speeding

As – unlike us –

She fought for fodder and their feeding

There are two of them – poor souls –

Hidden from the prowls of night-time

We fed our brothers as one does

But – eating not –

We prayed that with the warmth they would

(And then there were none – all gone –

Old before their time they had tried

To suffer as brothers but they died

One – to the end –

Fought hard – but that stench of pain will stay

For the three of them – poor souls –)