Over one hundred years have passed since your poem was written
I am in Whitstable today with my family
The sun is high in the sky and everything is calm
Small children are playing with vacant oyster shells
Whilst their parents paddle quietly in the sea
Above me umber moths hide in the coastal trees
Waiting for the evening breeze
Their camouflage does not fool me
I look at my small soldiers book
Nobody is aware of your poem
Why should they be?
The waxed cloths are long forgotten
And the dead have been laid to rest
Anniversaries count for little these days
All is quiet on the Givenchy Field
SMO 31st July 2017