Coming Home

They've moved the flag, bodies coming home
conveyer belt of failure; pray for all who wait.
a flag to ease the pain and who's the pain?
a piece of rag to carry into battle
young men, fathers, sons and lovers
brothers in their camouflage and yellow boots
brave to fight for land, never to be theirs.
One brief fame, the village sleeps again
what will they do to pass the time
will the lone bell toll less often ?
Next time someone comes home, carried
by his mates, let bells throughout the land
toll their sombre knell .Remind us all
from Cathedral tower to parish spire,
stay us in our tracks, shopping in the market,
grumbling at the price of petrol
pot holes in the road and such like..