The March of Time
They march along to the beat of the band,
These are the vets who fought in a foreign land.
There are fewer today as time goes by,
Age catches up and they die.
Shoulders stooped, limps, canes and aching thigh,
These proud soldiers march with heads held high.
Their steps are spry as they pass through the crowd,
Young once, older now, but just as proud.
They know the meaning of 鈥淟est We Forget.鈥�
As they remember comrades who paid the supreme debt.
On to the cenotaph rank and file,
To lay the wreaths in accustomed style.
It is a sight that pulls at the stout hearted,
As silence is observed for those who have departed.
I am grateful to these men and their mates,
鈥淟EST US NOT FORGET鈥� them, on this date.
Meager Compensation
They slowly gather into a group,
And discuss the past and the route.
They鈥檙e older now and they are few,
You may ask, 鈥淲hat did they do?鈥�
They are the brave, who survived the test,
With many giving lives at their best.
It is the time for us to say,
鈥淟est We Forget, It鈥檚 Remembrance Day.鈥�
They proudly march to the cenotaph,
To take part and remember that,
They are the fortunate, who survived the fray,
So we may live in freedom today.
As time goes by the young don鈥檛 heed,
Or give a thought of how they were freed.
They gave their lives without being dour,
Is it too much to give them, 鈥淛UST ONE HOUR?鈥�
鈥� poems written by John D. Grant
