On Parade

Sometimes as I sleep and dream.

I see myself as on parade.

Spectral figures stand before me

I call the roll of the Honorable dead.

Terry, didn’t hear the final bell.

Colin, I still can see his laughing face.

Gerry, he’d cry as he sent them all to hell.

Phillip, they never found his resting place.

Henri, he never heard the incoming round.

Chris was going home, he trod on a mine.

Chucky, he never went to ground.

Freeby, always find him first in line.

Missionary, fought the devil with righteous zeal

Go-fer, could always get you what you ask.

Trader was only happy when closing a deal.

Cory was always willing for any task.

Pointer slipped and tripped a wire.

Andy drove over a Cola can.

George, friendly fire was his funeral pyre.

Arty died while saving Dan.

I do not stand on Memorial Parade.

With sullen face, eyes downcast.

In memory of the sacrifice made.

I weep at home as they march past.

Robin A Spicer. © 24^th May 2005