ramblings and things

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Armistice Day 1918

Four long years dragging by
Until the misery of war was gone
And slowly in Sharp Street
The world began to move on.
After four long years
The sheer joy of release,
But, how can we understand,
As the world rejoiced at peace
The misery that must have been
The whole length of Sharp Street
As the wounded and surviving
Returned home to meet
The widows and the orphans
The parents, the sweethearts
Who stayed at home
And played their parts.
One hundred and forty two
Confirmed combat dead
But how many others wounded 
Either physically or in the head.
Was there any house
That didn't wear black
As it welcomed those 
Returning heroes back.
But, somehow they survived,
Somehow continued with life
As the returning survivors dealt
With the traumas of war and strife.
They erected in time
The Sharp Street shrine
A visible tribute for 
Ignorant eyes like mine.
But, no shrines were erected
To the bruised and battered minds
Of the wives, the children, the parents,
All those who had to stay behind
And exist
And pray
For that longed for
Armistice Day.
Live those years 
Not knowing when, or whether
Loved ones would return to families
They'd  fought so hard to keep together.

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Armistice Day, 1918