The Old Man cries

The Old Man cries

With his head bowed down
Looking old and grey
He stands there in silence
On this special day.
He’s remembering his friends
From when he was young and fit
For now he is alone
So often is he sick.

Wearing sombre clothes
With a poppy in his lapel
He is thinking of his past
And those years of hell
So many of his friends did die
Those sixty plus years ago
Yet he stands and remembers
But he is old and slow

So many of his friends died young
They never did grow old
Many just buried where they fell
In poppy fields, so cold
He wants US ALL to respect
His brave friends, now dead
Who gave their lives, so we might live
So with bowed head, his tears are shed

NO WONDER HE CRIES

Written by: Doreen E Hampshire

About the author

doreenhampshire
110 Up Votes
Born in 1940 Very active. Live in Hull and I am also a Volunteer for City of Culture 2017, I volunteer at a pre school, also Mums and tots at my local Church. Have grandchildren and greatgrandchildren and love them all, love travelling with my husband of 53 years. Life is good

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