You sit alone.

Too late for hope.  Forget

The food to send:

The shoebox full of sweets and cheese.

Forget that kiss

At parting.

You stare at space.

Forget the dreams

Ignore the empty cradle,

Turn your head and do not see

The babies which will never be.

The loving.

He lies in wood.

White silk, blue sashes for his bed.

His pillow: cushions red.

Brave hues.

Colours of the victory he gave

By fighting.

You were so proud

Of your regimental love.

What comfort politicians’ speeches now?

What comfort to remember how

You waited for him night and day

By watching?

They are here.

No more alone, the time has come for memory,

For sweet tears, for what will be.

You have the music loved by him,

The ceremony and the din

Of marching.

Remember him.

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