“Come visit the site
Where you lost your life
In battle”, you say “And I
Will have it decorated; have a cake”.
To come sit by a cross and fiddle
In a yellow sunset, against the wind, faraway.
“You must come”, but, I won’t
And it matters not anymore. “You
Must come”. Well, so must you. But,
To come I won’t where withered lie
Hollowed shrouds of a ghost town lost,
In the coldness and in tatters, colours
Shallowed by frost, I see in my mind
Where the thin spirits walk
And to memory I can merely be kind.
So, I won’t come and I refuse
— Where there will be celebration,
A new day and a new flag aloft and
Songs in upbeat — to come.
I stay and I will watch it transmitted.