I remember how you looked, so proud so hansom standing
in the doorway in your new uniform.
I remember the excitement in the faces of you and your new
friends as you marched out of our village.
I remember watching the new reals of men falling, lost forever and wondering if it was you.
I remember the joy of your letters on the doormat and the sadness
of those white empty mats.
But most of all I remember that you never returned and the men who did, there faces tell a different story.
I will remember you today as that young hansom man standing in the doorway.
I remember **