We are your silent ­neighbours

Those who you may read about

But never see

The war dead listed in

the park

Upon the granite memorial

The now ever-silent sentries.

You stop sometimes

to be with us

Even perhaps to take in silently

A half-dozen of our names

We who died

So as you could sit in the park

And look at the flowers

Whilst your children freely played

Their games.

We are your silent neighbours

We are those who even share

With you your family names

And yet we might have lived

As you too have lived

If it were not for war the same.

We are those who you come

To remember in November

Each and every year

And the reason why you wear

The blood red poppies

Before you join us in our silence

For just two minutes

As the Last Post sounds

so clear.

 

And yet the lists are

never-ending

For today they still die

And are maimed

Leaving others to shed tears

And to be widowed

As were our loved ones

In other times just the same.

 

We are your silent neighbours

We who must keep a silent vigil

For always

And who might have lived

as you

Have lived in another time

if only

Peace not war had come

our way.