Remembrance
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Rows of black with vivid splash of red,
heads bow down at the tolling of the bell
lined up like granite stones that mark the dead,
a silent testament to those who fell.
Thoughts and hearts together march in time,
back to those muddy trenches filled with rain,
one's soul lashed by the whip of every chime,
one's freedom doing penance for their pain.
With faces set, inside we give a cry
as bugle cuts the silence for the lost,
for answer to the simple question why
peace always comes at such a dreadful cost.
The war to end all wars, no lesson learned
as through the Middle East the fires burn
Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2016
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