Some in Khaki, Standing proud
Line upon line in village and town
They straight-back march past watching crowd
They all wear a flower, red as blood
And on their faces, a diamond tear
None question their cause - The Greater Good
They get fewer each year - or so it should be
But wars go on the whole world over
And sadness takes a hold of me
As I remember
A memory, not from in my head,
A fragment of a passed down tale
From one who ran among the dead
And is remembered
If I could tell each one dealt that bitter blow
We loved them, death was not in vain
Perhaps true peace their souls could know.........
But they remember!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.