As the silent hour strikes Eleven
On this, the Eleventh Day
In this, the Eleventh Month;
shall we take time, pause and remember those
who went ‘afore their time, to Heaven;
called in hail of fire
torn from life
their folks;
in blood red poppy
adorned on coats
circled in wreaths
fallen in ceremony
the lowering of the flags,
evoke the silence of the guns;
shattered by the guns
that still reap their spoils;
even as we remember them.
As the silent hour strikes Eleven
On this, the Eleventh Day
In this, the Eleventh Month;
shall we take time, pause and remember those
who went ‘afore their time, to Heaven;