A memory of what remembering is for: of loved-ones lost or heroes born, of purities shaken or buildings torn, of ones who'll die in future wars when again the fearing fall for hollow sounds— a remembrance hijacked by evil clowns.
Wonderfully put, Philip! Honour and compassion are the only fitting tributes to the day. A clown who plays the fool is only that, and cannot diminish the gratitude of thankful hearts...
Wonderfully put, Philip! Honour and compassion are the only fitting tributes to the day. A clown who plays the fool is only that, and cannot diminish the gratitude of thankful hearts...
ReplyDeleteThank you for this poem...
Lynette
Thank you for the nice comment!
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