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11 11 11

Twenty five strangers, avoiding contact

Stand

Faces towards the war memorial

Waiting

Not quite sure when to begin.

The traffic rumbles across the park.

No gun here, no sudden maroon

To mark the silence.

A veteran to my left

Stands to attention.

His colleague, with walking stick,

Moves slowly forward till he stands, head bowed,

Before the tiny poppied cross.

We wait - as we have always waited.

No sign is given

But some people start to leave;

As they go, a gentle voice proclaims

Familiar words.

I stop, head bowed,

And I am glad.

Brian Hick 11.11.11

©copyright Sally Hick 11.12.23