What does the ancient soldier feel?
As he waves to the crowd?
Age and sadness and fear of steel
Memories of gunshots, sharp and loud
Memories of friends, of a war
Of children dead upon the land
Memories of mates coming home battered, bruised and sore
Memories of killing men by his own hand
And thoughts of pride and joy
As he sees the two flags fly
Thoughts of using his gun like a toy
The ANZACs shall live forever, even when we die
What feels the ancient soldier, as he drives away?
Sadness, pain and joy to see the light of another day
