I’m standing where the sea licks
over rock pools to raise green bands
of ownership on the white cliffs.

Over there is Flanders field
where crosses laid with poppies pledge
remembrance of our war torn dead

but I’m not gone yet.

Light fades here on winter shore
seagulls scream annoying protests
of the dark to come

& here you walk a buttoned man
with dog at heel while over there
in Flanders field forgotten bones

in shallow graves and miles of paper
poppies face the silent night .

alone.