Every year; humbled.
Armistice
Viscid in dreadful sentiment,
with badges tacked upon his sleeve
Medals fixed unto his breast,
through history books we grieve
Though history’s not forgotten;
time, no opiate for pain
Our eyes may not have witnessed,
but we do not take in vain
To those we owe our freedom;
those now, and long since gone,
I’ll pin, with pride, my poppy,
at the setting of the sun.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
1 comment:
Hi ,
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