Visit to Lone Pine. ANZAC COVE

Hillside of the Dead.

Contemplate the fallen,
resting body spent
night sky drifts across
the sloping hillside of the Dead.

Cast a gaze at tottering stones
darkened by natures' stains.

Mother, the night sky dances
on the sloping hillside of the Dead.
To bruise death's markers
at sleep's yawning birth.

While the lone pine stands
on the sloping hillside of the Dead.
On lookers stare
with clouded eyes upon the fallen.

Is it  a mirage? Is it a mirage?
On the sloping hillside of the Dead.

To perish under a blazing sun
beneath a carpet of golden flowers.
Mother, the mirage is dancing
on the sloping hillside of the Dead.

Yes, children the storming wind
turns the sloping hillside white.
It is the mirage! It is the mirage!
On the sloping hillside of the Dead.

Like an enraged bull.
It is the mirage! It is the mirage!
On the sloping hillside of the Dead.

Yes, the mirage, the mirage
Crown's our grief
as it dances, dance through
the sloping hillside of the Dead.