by | Mar 26, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

The old soldier pauses
on his Sunday stroll,

looks at the wreath
of decaying red carnations

tied to a lamppost. Reads
the rain-stained message:

“To my best mate – RIP –
I’ll miss you forever.”

His fingers touch
the ragged England flag

then the poppy at his lapel.
He sighs and passes on.


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