Time thinned letters of boys stories,
All their thoughts of amassing glories.
Tears of memories on weary faces,
Remembering all those awful places.
Passchendaele, Somme and battle sites,
Entombed in time and practised rites.
Programmes of war, frail films of those years,
Display for us their terror and tears.
Keeping moments alive of how they died,
The guns, mud and gas supplied.
Horrific burns and blasted bodies,
Secret drinks among the Squaddies.
Lies uncovered - we know now,
What you suffered – where and how.
If they could return for just one day
What would all those young men say?
Did we honour them enough through time,
Prayers and poppies at every shrine?
But oh, we think of them now,
Huge monuments of pride we feel somehow
They didn’t die in vain you see –
!00 years on still affected are we!
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