Men lay down their arms, on incensed lain grounds, among rows of fellow charms, from families all forlorn.
Tears fall from pink faces, as old men tie up old shoelaces, then all stand proud and true, when trumpeter sounds the last time.
The white as Lilly stone, brightly seen unturned, as parade of cars discard, away from silent wargraves.
Smiles of Pride stand out, upon white cliffs of Dover, warriors are ne'er forgotten, by flying over doves.
Submitted: January 24, 2021
© Copyright 2021 bloodman. All rights reserved.
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