Furth, Fortune

Boots up on the van's dashboard,
Watching the wipers slapping at the rain,
Dreaming of France -  he's lost
Among the cherry trees, all ghostly white.

Dear Mrs Gray,  I cannot tell you 
What sorrow it gives me to write this letter,
And I know what it must mean to you...

The auctioned farm,
The spotless house,
The daughters in empty dance halls.

Distinguished on the War Memorial,
Long lichen-covered names -
Unmentioned men, disowned buffoons
In permanent disgrace.