As we approach Remembrance Sunday, a short piece about remembering, and those lost, whose bodies were never found again, and how they were once someone's child, growing up, and all the promise cut short.
Remember bones of forgotten soldiers lie
In no man's land. They fall, they die,
But no one knows then or even today,
Where they were killed, where they lay;
Life snuffed out like a candle's flame,
And in an instant gone. And no name
For the unknown soldier. But one day,
He had been a young baby, and a ray
Of sunshine, a blessing to his parents,
Who would scarce believe clothes rent
By bullets, lying there, still, all alone,
Left to become shapeless rags and bone;
The schoolboy, playing pranks, happy fun,
And little knowing of a blood red setting sun;
Remember me, remember those with no name,
Those left, whom no one returned to claim;
Into the dark, the valley of the shadow of death,
They all went, each one lost, each last dying breath,
Taken on the winds of the world, blown away,
And all we can do is light a candle now and pray.
La Journée Întèrnâtionale du Thée - International Tea Day - Aniet ch'est la Journée Întèrnâtionale du Thée *Today is International Tea Day* - Du thée - Tea - Salon dé thée? - Thée et asseûthance - Tea and ...
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