We’re back to Eric in Ventura for a very interesting challenge, which brought back a memory too. The challenge was: “miniature lead soldiers that even Andrew Wyeth and H. G. Wells played with. ”
My first husband had these metal soldiers that he would play war games with his buddies on a Sunday. He used to paint them in the colors that were appropriate to the armies they represented. Seeing as he worked 6 days, I guess I was technically a war widow from the second day I was married. On our wedding day, he’d disappeared at the reception; he’d discovered the bar had the soccer on the tv. That day, Liverpool beat Manchester United 5-0 and it was the happiest day of his life, which apparently had little to do with the fact he’d just got married. It’s ok, it’s so long ago now, I can laugh at this.
But I don’t think my exes soldiers were lead, so I turned to eBay for some inspiration. I found a listing for 11 battered lead soldiers, some missing arms that were made to swing in marching.
The 11 lead soldiers in an ebay listing that helped inspire the sonnet.
Once we were an army on the field
a green baize table all set out for war
(though none of us could figure out what for),
our generals, two boys, would sometimes yield
to calls from mother. But until that time
we’d all be marched around and fire and drum
amidst their noise of battle, bomb and gun
and yells as some would ‘die’ along our line.
But they grew up and we were boxed for years,
swinging arms were lost, and many men;
our paint was chipped. Now down to just eleven
were rediscovered, sold as mercenaries.
We’re old, disabled. War is not the same.
We’re just your heroes from a childhood’s game.