Black rolls slowly over black

inside draped a Union Jack.

Once again they line the street

respect for men they'll never meet.

Silently they share the grief,

their self appointed watching brief.

The families move onto grieve,

they'll remain when others leave.

Knowing soon they'll stand again

in light and dark, the sun and rain.

They'll line the street and mark once more

the pain and folly and cost of war.

It started out with just a few

but as more passed the numbers grew.

Now they stand for all of us

and show the feelings, without fuss,

anger, frustration, loss and fear

that builds within us year on year.

More than that they show unbidden

that part of Britain largely hidden.

The people who were never asked

about our soldiers being tasked

to fight against a shadow foe

that we will really never know

but used to be our country's friend.

You have to ask how it will end.

More troops are going out they say,

more sons and daughters sent away.

Those who fall will come back home

passing through this Wiltshire town.

Black on black again will roll

as upwards creeps this war's toll

and they will once more line the street

respecting men they'll never meet.