CENOTAPH.



It was an inside out Brolly day,
When those that were on the Streets,
Against the lash,
Marched, Marched,
Knowing the last post would sound,
Against  the  Guns,
Of our Poppies of Red,
For an unknown  Soldier,
                          That lay,

The Cenotaph was tall,
Cold and grey,
Like Winter Soldiers
On Parade,

We lay our Wreaths,
Beside our Monarch,
Foreign and Commonwealth,
For they shall not grow old,
As We who are left, grow old.