They call me, Mononymous,

even though that is not my name,

I was born, they called me Chuckles,

and that was fine for them,

I thought of myself as Chuck,

but went through life

with a parrot called Chip

on my shoulder.

I couldn’t be a soldier,

and so grew white feathers

which turned into doves of peace,

when, oh when, will the fighting cease.

I flew away

for a year

and a day,

then more.

I was never seen again

upon this foreign shore.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s