219 SENIOR POEM, FIRST PLACE Viena Milley The Unknown Soldier's Daughter I am the Unknown Soldier's daughter. I am a victim of the slaughter. For when my father went to war, he was unprepared for all the gore. He didn't expect those dreadful sights that would grow to haunt him day and night. When I was nine we said goodbye, and watched the soldiers leave. We didn't respect that croix de guerre on that hated Nazi sleeve. But Christmas passed, and New Year's too, and still I did not see, The father of that little girl: That little girl who's me. When he wrote home we gathered round to hear the latest news; We heard what war was really like, and the falseness that they use. It wasn't a happy and glorious charge, with fame and glory bright; It seemed more like a nightmare you'd have, on a dark and stormy night. And nightmarish it truly was as the next two years unfolded. We waited for the cease昀re, as our hope and peace eroded. Then on that sweet cold rainy day that we always will remember; The clock struck at eleven, on the eleventh of November.
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