The Eleventh Hour

On the eleventh hour…
Of the eleventh day…
Of the eleventh month…
In nineteen forty-five…
That was the beginning of the end of World War One.

The church bells rang and people cheered;
The sounds of war replaced by running feet;
Their hearts were filled with laughter and with joy,
And there was dancing on every street.

When it began, in nineteen thirty-nine,
The call went out to young men in their prime –
And they signed up; to fight for country and for King
Not knowing it would take such a long time.

They fought on land, on the sea and in the air,
Fought long and hard that we might live in peace;
They did the tasks that they were called to do –
Wishing the human suffering would cease.

Those who returned, they were forever changed;
They’d seen so much that we can never know;
Dark memories that haunt tormented souls;
The sounds of war will never let them go.

If not for them, the life we now enjoy
Would simply be a dream of something nice;
But they ensured that our dreams would come true
And we must not forget their sacrifice.

On the eleventh hour…
Of the eleventh day…
Of the eleventh month…
In nineteen forty-five…
That was the beginning of the end of World War One.

© 2015 Fay Herridge

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