The given day approaches,
The rituals will start,
Respect and dedication,
From all those taking part.

The blazer from the wardrobe,
Is pressed and brushed pristine,
The medals from their storage,
Are polished fit to gleam.

The slacks are ironed to knife edge,
And hung up set to go,
The shoes are bulled to mirrors,
So far they seem to glow.

The beret brushed and reshaped,
From where it’s been in store,
All ready for the moment,
when you step out of the door.

At marble stones they gather,
Engraved with names of old,
The veterans of more recent war,
Are now the old and bold.

The call to order sounded,
The words immortal said,
The bugle plays the last post,
To honour a countries dead.

A ritual not a penance,
To those we owe a debt,
The sacrifice of others,
Be sure, Lest we Forget.