Do you remember them with paper poppy pinned proud on shirt lapel?
That tiny token to those tin soldiers who died in fields of hell?
Do you remember them with sad silence stretched two minutes long?
Ninety million men mourned with tears torrents and sombre song.
Can you imagine bullets, bombings, barrages, bringers of blood?
Crawling, crumbling, carcasses collected in foreign fields of mud?
Boys playing soldiers, far too young to meet such a torturous end.
Massacred in millions – lost, too great a cost to even comprehend.
Do you remember them as seniors shamble, soldiers on proud parade?
Walk with weak hips as their lips leave words lost on rusty blade.
Can you hear the trumpets, bugles blowing, a drummer keeping time?
Cold, old men marching, mothers mourning slain sons – such a crime!
Do you think of them as valorous, victories each earned in battle?
Or think of gas, as choking comes, collapsing meet death’s rattle?
Do you remember well and promise that this will never happen again?
Or is the past destined to repeat, release war dogs howling in pain?
Will wars ever end or will they echo eternally, collision course set?
This November, did you remember or did you try harder to forget?