Beyond the harbour wall there stands an edifice,
Featureless, erect and grey as the skies that glower down.
The wind pelts it's face with salt spray but it cannot turn away.
Stalwart waypoint on the voyage home,
It guides my way to safety,
A friend at a distance.
I walk there sometimes and read the names
Now blurred with time and weather,
Boys lost to the deep.
Some still await their return,
Lives in limbo as the tides ebb and flow.
At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day
All but the gulls and the waves fall silent here.
Weak sunshine silvers the glint of medals and of tears.
Amongst the polished boots and shoes
Scarlet petals flutter,
And They live again.
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