At The End Poem by john o'connell

at the end
of the road
the Romans marched
from hither to thither,
they say.
at the other side
of the delta
lies our land's oldest
town, Nijmegen,
where Charlemagne
made his presence
felt.
here, bullets marks
in the trees
as souvenirs of the most
intense fighting on
the western front -
3 out of 4 were young
and butchered;
all for Montgomery's pride!
the crosses are, of course,
whiter than white.
the old soldiers,
in there maroon berets,
come back and come back
to visit their dead mates
and drink quiet pints
with suffering still written
all over their ageing faces.
every year there are fewer
due to natural causes.