Yesterday, I laid a solemn wreath in Regimental Square.
Then, when standing up, and in that moment’s quiet pause;
With hand on heart, with eyes downcast,
I could not but think that you weren’t there,
That brave, bold memory from my past.
Where are you now? I thought. Where might you be?
While standing there and quite alone.
I’d never been with you like this, you see,
Laying wreaths and standing still.
We almost always used to be
Returning fire and lying prone.
But now, in retrospect and after thought,
Here, while drawing back the curtains to my past.
I realise you’ve been here, always at my side;
And of my memories you will always be my first, my last;
Laughing, scorning those with whom we fought
With such exuberance, and with such an awful pride.