As Harry walks to get his paper in the morning rain,
His stance still rigid, though his joints feel the pain.
Eyes rest on the “hoodies” blocking his path with disdain,
No respect for this hero, who survived hell at El Alamain.
As Charley peers from the window of his warden controlled flat,
He sighs at the rain falling and pulls on his hat.
Off to the corner shop, to buy food for “Rommel” his tabby cat,
A veteran of Tobruk, this hero was a desert rat.
As Ben pulls on his coat to go for a walk with the dog,
Salt and tar course through his veins, still the fire of “grog”.
Ignored by most, respected by none, if only they knew his slog,
Icy seas lashed this hero’s face, a mighty bulwark in Atlantic fog.
So please acknowledge them at the shops, park or station,
These elderly heroes, people who served our nation.
The unheard memories they have deny their emancipation,
Our Islands heroes of bygone days deserve our acclamation.
Phil Hall October 2012
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