Remembrance
On the eleventh day
And at the eleventh hour
In a cold and wintry November
We choose that very moment
That specific time
At which we will remember
At the dawning of the Armistice
When the big guns at last fell silent
Memories that will never cease
Thinking of those poor Tommies
Forced to fight for King and Country
In pursuit of lasting peace
Now at that lumpen marble stone
The whitened Cenotaph
Gather men in darkened suits
Wearing poppies on sharp lapels
Holding rounded, heavy wreaths
Close by the sound of marching boots
The sombre tolling of Big Ben
A minute’s empty, windy silence
The Last Post sounding clear
Thinking of The Fallen
Blood spilt, sacrifices made
In many lands, both far and near
Respect for those departed
Who laid down their lives in war
Red and white flowers on this Sunday
But soldiers coming home
Face their daily battle
Such as how to cope with Monday
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