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 knives.
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 rails
she bravely waves the boys 'Goodbye' again.
And still the dark stain spreads between
their shoulder blades.
A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves.
When the fight was over
we spent what they had made.
But in the bottom of our hearts
we felt the final cut...
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