From out the harbour early dawn
A shadow slips unseen, unknown.
The patriotic fervour gone
The headline makers all moved on.
Dangers real and harsh as any
Name unheard of by so many.
No cameras see her on her way
No bunting flutters on this day.
Upon returning duty done
Observed by few and cheered by none
Returning to her working life
Changed forever by the strife.
And soon, her role unmarked, forgot
She’s left upon a beach to rot.
The mist curls round in early dawn
The shadow dies, unseen, unknown.
© Brian Keith Bilverstone 2007