they disembarked in 45
  and no one spoke and no one smiled
  there were too many spaces in the line
  gathered at the cenotaph
  all agreed with hand on heart
  to sheath the sacrificial knifes
  but now
  she stands upon southampton dock
  with her handkerchief
  and her summer frock clings
  to her wet body in the rain
  in quiet desperation knuckles
  white upon the slippery reins
  she bravely waves the boys goodbye again
  and still the dark stain spreads between
  his shoulder blades
  a mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves
  and when the fight was over
  we spent what they had made
  but in the bottom of our hearts
  we felt the final cut