Saturday, 7 November 2009

On the 11th Hour of the 11th Day of The 11th Month...

Flanders Fields

A minute's silence, thought and prayer,
November means so much to those who care.
Remembering the people called to arms,
To save their country from terrible harm.
Sons of England sleep where they fell,
With Allied soldiers who died as well.
The names of the missing, engraved on stone,
Where Soldier's spirits still do roam.
Beneath the French and Belgium skies,
A grieving mother stands and cries,
Remembering the face of her only son,
One of millions who died too young.
Where gunfire sounded and cannons roared,
And between the bombs the Skylarks soared,
Now golden grasses like soldiers stand,
Shoulder to shoulder hand in hand.
Poppies amongst the gravestones grow,
A vast sea of crosses, row upon row.
In the gathering dusk the Last Post sounds,
A single wreath lies upon the ground.
On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day
we will remember then come what may.

May the fallen from all wars, Past and Present, rest in peace.
From all corners of the world, Whoever they are, Wherever they may fall, We will remember them.

Photos and Poetry Copyright S-May 2008.
All content of this blog published in good faith, please respect all copyright and do not copy or use without permision. Thank you.

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