The Clock

On a breezy afternoon I walked at Semaphore As the gulls were wheeling and forever squawking near the beach’s shore And I walked up to the white stone clock there to see the time Standing tall clearly displayed as it slowly moved around in its electric wind It was erected there on the spot in 1924 To remember the loved ones lost in the Great War And now it stands as a sentinel looking out to sea Giving the time as its service to us all so faithfully I read the foundation stones laid in each corner Each telling their story for the local mourners What did they think as each was stone was laid there Was a tear shed for those lost for each in their loving care I saw there was a stone laid by the local mayor Showing what the Community had lost and that they did care They had sent them off to fight in the Great War And waited at home wanting it to end wondering at the final score The local RSL laid their stone for the war’s survivors Who saw the blood spilled and knew the loss was so much finer They gathered in remembering their lost mates Thinking of their sacrifice and wondering at the fates The saddest stone was laid by their widows and orphans Who struggled with their loss that had no final end For they suffered each hour of every day As their grief was palatable never ever going away So we who look at the stones today standing so true Laid so many years ago when the grief was very new So stand straight for a moment and think of all of them Lost for us in war and remember what it meant in the end. © Paul Warren Poetry