Thousands of bodies litter the sand and ocean,
creating a blood red sea on shore,
all baking in the sun of the early day,
they will lie here for hours, while more will gather.

Sixty years will pass,
and now it is different.
everyday more bodies came,
and more lay where past have laid,
and more wade out in to the ocean waves,
and more ride them back in to land.

Yet now, the constant roar of waves,
shouting of young boys and girls,
boats passing by with cheery fisherman
form a picture, perfect for a family album,
or a cherished childhood memory for any one person.
But will we remember, what never should be forgotten?
The day at the beach,
late in the war,
on that grievous day,
in nineteen forty-four.