For your tomorrow

They shall grown not old as we who are left grow old
Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them


It's been a long time since I haven't found myself standing up straight and trying not to shiver on a cold November morning, squashed shoulders with the girls around me, standing on the top of a hill in my actually-ironed shirt sleeves, listening to the unwavering voice of a 80-something year old recite down the steps to the rest of the crowd.