Thoughts on WWI poet, Wilfred Owen

This year is the 100th aniversary of the start of the First World War.  One of my favourite poets is Wilfred Owen.  He was an Englishman, the son of an LMC family that lived in the industrial Midlands.  From what I have read about him, he was a lonely child and I think this shows in his poetry, which in my opinion, is some of the best to come out of that terrible conflict.  He is a poet, whose work moves me profoundly.
   

Thoughts on WWI poet,
Wifred Owen
by
Tom Roach

Alone, a child walks down a street
canyon walled with red-brick homes.
Each has a smoking chimney
bay window, doorstep and a garden wall.

The frosty air is filled with sparkle.
The red sun slowly sets
while the sky is coloured
the softest of dove greys.

The slow dusk covers all
like the lightest of wool blankets.
And in the homes
the windows close their eyes
with a drawing down of blinds.

I embedded the final line from An Anthem for Doomed Youth, into the last verse of this poem.