11/11/2025
The Boy with the Sailor’s Bag
A uniform too large, sleeves brushing his hand,
He stands where silence fills the land.
A sailor’s cap, a borrowed pride,
Dreams of men who fought, and died.
The bag he bears is worn and wide,
Its canvas stained, its weight inside
Not guns, nor maps, nor call to fight,
But poppies red — so vivid, bright.
Each bloom a whisper from the past,
A promise made, a shadow cast.
He carries not their pain or fear,
But memory — to keep them near.
So when we see that tender gaze,
The boy who honours older days,
We’ll stand in silence, heads bowed low,
For those who sailed — and won’t return home.
