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Poetry from within



On the windswept, rainy streets of Britain,

a solemn silence will be effected

in recognition of the debt to men

and women whom, our freedom, protected.

It's when Big Ben first chimes at eleven,

the nation will stop in deepest respect

for those whose names on our hearts are graven;

two minutes quiet in which we reflect.

We must remember their loved ones as well,

for they bear the mixture of grief and pride

but are left alone with no-one to tell -

it's so lonely when their partner has died.

A poppy falls down for everyone

who gave their all, so our freedom was won

Mark Rand