A Cold November…

Hello,

It's me again my old friend,

Every year I come and speak to you, I just wish you weren't dead,

The days back in that trench, days of sacrifice and friends losing breath,

White eyes and blackened face, we were only young, it was a disgrace,

Thick boots heavy as clay, writing letters to home, hiding our pain,

I know you would have wanted me to live in the freedom that we fought for,

The memories of our friendship, your laugh still echoes in the tears I pour,

I have a beautiful wife and 3 children, now and again I tell them old stories,

But we're all getting on now, but trust me, I won't forget you and the falling,

My heart is whole but bruised,

My body shows the bullet wounds,

On a cold November, silence looms,

Over a poppy, I still cry for you...

The letters you wrote to your family, the ink never dries from loving tears,

I talk to your son on the phone, for a funny story he still patiently lingers,

Today, I'll have a brandy or two and use the lighter you gave me to smoke my cigar,

This might be a blanket battlefield of scars but I'm truly proud where you are,

My friend,

My brother,

All the murder we witnessed,

In death I loved you like no other,

So I stand here before the last post,

The tears I cry, are as real as they get,

You were a brave soldier and not a ghost,

Today, my heart aches but I'm not alone,

Today, silence breaks and my poppy is soaked,

My promise to you, I won't forget your fighting soul,

I know you're with me even when I'm grey and old,

Each and every year this remembrance stone, I'm another day closer to your soldier's home...

My heart is whole but bruised,

My body shows the bullet wounds,

On a cold November, silence looms,

Over a poppy, I still cry for you,

Over a poppy, I still, cry for you...