I have marched in the past and I may march again
But today I need naught but the memory of friends
It’s their life, not their death that I remember so well
And so, in my solitude, in their reality I’ll dwell.

Think well of me, you who have marched on this day
Think well of my decision to stay home and pray
For the noise and the yells and the applause of the crowd
Would wrap and enfold my lost youth in a shroud.

I sit quietly at home, alone with my thoughts
pondering the freedom our exploits have bought.
One right that I’ve earned is the freedom to say
That I’ll mourn by myself, on this Anzac Day.