Local War Graves


They do not have the clout
of Thiepval or Tyne Cot,
the stones that stand alone
or in a line strung out
like some half smile.

Take those across the river
at Troqueer, smashed flyers,
sailors thrown up by sea,
four countries’ debris
reconciled at last by tide,

men who gambled on adventure
or duty and lost. Remember
them best when the sun shines
on youngsters mad for life:
when the wind is hot outside.