Remembrance Sunday
No single sound,
No murmur from the crowd,
No shuffling feet but stillness all around;
The poppies, brilliant in their scarlet, glow
around the Cenotaph
As we remember those,
Remember those who died so long ago.
No whisper there,
No stirring from the crowd,
'Til shattering the stillness of the air
the old tower clock begins to strike the hour
above the silent town.
A silver bugle sounds its solemn call,
Heads are lifted and scarlet poppies blow
around the Cenotaph,
As we remember those,
remember those who died so long ago.
Copyright Norah E Bishop