I hear a distant bugle calling
bravely as the twilights falling
The plaintive notes of the last post,
when I’m alone affect me most.
As I remember those who fell
in defence of liberty.
Where they lie now no man can
but I remember vividly
Lofty, only five foot two
and his best mate big Geordie Green.
Taff Thomas and Dai Williams too.
I wonder what they might have been
Had death not claimed them one and all
selected them quite randomly.
Each time I hear that bugle call
a sense of guilt falls over me.
Why was I chosen to survive
to wed and raise a family.
When they gave all they had to give
each death a separate tragedy.
But I live on. I know not why
death chose my friends, left me behind.
The only thing I know is I
Must keep their memories in mind.
The plaintive notes the bugler plays
that drift across the fields to me
Will mark too, the end of my days
when I rejoin their company.
7-Feb-08
Ivor your loyalty to lost friends and comrades-at-arms is truly to be admired. You do honor to both those who were lost and to the one who survived. Perhaps it was for this. Thanks for sharing this personal write.
Hi Ivor! A beautiful write here, thanks for sharing! ! ! *10*! ! Friend Thad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ivor...This one was particularly hard for me to read right now... But you did such a fantastic job on it! It was very touching! hugs, dee