Poetry

LESS WE FORGET

By 11th October 2007December 9th, 2019No Comments

The old man in the corner who stares into space
The story of time etched on the lines on his face
He sits their and remembers those to the left and his right
The soldiers and friends who had gone to the fight

He remembers the cold and the dirt and the smells
He remembers his mates who were wounded and fell
The cold of the night and the heat of the day
The fields full of Poppies where his friends fell and lay

The old man sits alone with his memories and drink
A time to remember, to remember and think
He thinks of the good times as well as the bad
He thinks of the life, the friendship he has had

People look over and see the man on his own
They wonder why this old feller sits their all alone
If they asked him he’d tell them I’m here with my friends
I spend it with them on every Remembrance weekend

So I’m not sitting here all alone and depressed
Cos I share my time here with the bold and the best
The blokes who stood fast and who answered the call
They are always beside me, still young one and all

The old man sups up and he heads for the door
He ventures outside to the memorial once more
To stand and pay tribute and his respects he does send
And to stand beside others who remember their friends

Remembrance Sunday, less we forget
Is a chance to remember, a chance to respect
A chance to remember we promised and said
A chance to remember the Glorious Dead

So when you see these old soldiers just sitting in the bar
Pull a chair up beside them and the chances are
They will share a few drinks and a story or two
Of the men who bought freedom for me and for you

Chris Dickson

Author Chris Dickson

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