Vanishing From View

A crush of grey faces, solemn against the grey sky, the grey sea; a pale, youthful khaki column slow board the ship from granite quay from which a crowd; sisters, mothers, cheer, with feigned encouragement as they had done for all others; one by one, families are rent. Flags fail to flutter in the breeze, too limp with early morning dew, will not acclaim these enlistees with glorious red, white, and blue. They, silent, smiling, sharing smokes depart, in dawn's colourless haze with knowing stares at their kinfolks where both their inner thoughts betrays. The whooping horn, the splash of rope the churning oily water, twixt they and the widening space of hope as the ship slow departs the bay. Some linger, watch the vessel leave; others close eyes, and turn their back; all, secretly, already grieve, as the yellow black topped smoke stack vanishes from view and, takes away those few.