They disembarked in 45

And no one spoke and no one smiled

There were too many spaces in the line

Gathered at the cenotaph

All agreed with hand on heart

To sheath the sacrificial knifes

But now

She stands upon southampton dock

With her handkerchief

And her summer frock clings

To her wet body in the rain

In quiet desperation knuckles

White upon the slippery reins

She bravely waves the boys goodbye again

And still the dark stain spreads between

His shoulder blades

A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves

And when the fight was over

We spent what they had made

But in the bottom of our hearts

We felt the final cut.