The ceremony went ahead as planned
in bright sunshine, what was left was a carpet
of wreaths; when at the Cenotaph a band
of mostly tourists crowded round the barrier,
and with no poppy on the coat lapel
distinguished themselves, of this day to tell.
The dead it appeared were equally kind,
accepting the honours and royal presence,
the Services, veterans, and behind,
the thronging populace; what is in essence
a tribute from life, ‘The Glorious Dead’ on
the Cenotaph, in every generation.
It explains why mortality is in tune
with death, sensing a higher state than life;
poppy wearers repair to the pub as soon
as it’s over, tourists swarm; the motif,
‘Age shall not touch them, nor the years condemn’
not merely will rhyme with ‘remember them’.
