I met him up on High Cross Hill,

On the dusty track to Caelum's ridge.

Together, we crossed Acheron’s Brook,

Over the single-width wooden bridge.

Dressed in khaki drab, peak cap pulled 

Over sallow eyes, moist from weeping. 

Pallor'd face unsmiling, and there,

The small red medal, chest high, seeping.

I, this young man's father's father,

He, our family's pride.

Read and leave comments (3)