Canteen

A canteen so dreary has no life of it's own

A canteen whilst drab is a place to behold

From within it's walls come talk and laughter

Or solitude and silence, sometimes anger

A lifeless room looks out to the sun

A place now bereft of talk and fun

As the room becomes refuge from the sleet and the snow

It's purpose apparent as the numbers grow

Newspapers, food and gossip just begun

People reaching out, crying for the sun

A dried up potato, a scoop full of rice

Meagre, measured portions and then there's the price

Gold bullion in exchange for a spoonfull of sauce

Please Mr Canteen man, I could eat a horse

Summer time comes and the canteen does empty

Except for the smokeroom which still holds a plenty