This walk in the hills,
April sun drenched
far as the eye can see,
clear across Raukawa
to Kaikoura's heights,
and heavens beyond,
is my prayer for you
dear departed friends.

This bush track stroll
far from jungles we knew,
in Malaya and Borneo,
and on to Vietnam,
peaceful and silent,
my remembrance
and hymn for you
comrades in arms.

These autumn leaves
gathered and scattered
willy-nilly as I roam,
nowhere in particular,
wandering memory's way,
in distant reflection,
are my flowers for you
brave and noble men.

This mad descent
off the hills to the shore
stretching legs to the limit,
bursting heart and lungs,
shouting defiance to the skies
'til body cries enough
is my song to you,
sons of the land.

This is my hymn, my psalm,
my song, my prayer.
This is my anzac parade,
in remembrance
of you.

© Ross Nepia Himona