Remembrance Sunday

What is it that flows
         onwards and out to the sea
the river swollen
         by the evening rains
so that it rises
         to barely a metre
below the jetty
         and a light wind
ruffles its surface
         where white gulls
bob up and down
         and though the sky
is winter grey
         the day itself is mild
and what a river needs
         is volume and pace and power
and a clear sense of direction
         and it certainly has that
on this solemn November day
         on which the grave dead
of the two World Wars
         are remembered

and I think of her voice
         its soft singing tone
the gentle rise and fall
         of her graceful words
live on her lips
         her voice that is
so often within me
         and how the torrent of love
flows passionately
         to and fro
and back and forth
         from one to another
in the give and take of it all
         and of the happiness
that words can bring
         the warp and woof
that binds the narrative
         just as two bodies
are intimately joined
         in all honour

John Lyons