11 November 2012
I sit in the memory of Tom, Watching bagpipes and drums, I hear his voice above the crowd, Shooing off a wayward cloud, I remember for him, Sitting in the silent din, Imagining as bombs rained down, And attack was the only sound, I see his face, smiling bright, Hear him say "it'll be alright", But blood glints red, Even though he said, So now the Poppy's sprout, In old vows and forgotten shouts, The sun shines through today, To show I remember him, this way.
*for Tom and every man, woman and child that lost their life at war.
Tom • Opuss № I