Amidst the turbid wastes, rusting
apparitions pepper the gloom.
Last vestiges of empire
stand sentinel for a forgotten foe.
No response to their radios home.
Their moot calls heard by gulls alone.
Strutting, squabbling, ambivalent gulls.
Years pass. Decades. Millenia.
Old friends fade away.
Stranded in Doggerland creeping to shore,
long lost sons shall some day make landfall.
Our old war stories needn’t be understood to feel loved.