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Poetry Page 12

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They Shall Not Grow Old

'They shall not grow old
As we that are left grow old'
That's what I've been told
Since I was five years old.

We are told how they 'fell'
In some far-away hell
'Falling' sounds graceful
And death - so peaceful.

After all these years
I'm still moved to tears
To watch them arrive
Home, no longer alive.

Those who are left
Sad and bereft
Of those whose praises are sung
I think they died far, far too young.

Rowena Thomas

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