Poppies
This foreign field I walk through is so silent now,
Its gentle mask well hides its past of blood,
For now, where poppies bloom and green grass carpets,
Was once the scene for carnage, gore and mud.
The sky above is filled with hues of white and blue,
And birds upon the wing are heard in song,
But take me back to when this field was witness,
To the cannons roar, the uniform and gun.
For here at night the star bursts were like thunder,
And lightning struck from skies without a cloud,
Where foreign youth from lands so far and many,
Were laid to final rest beneath mud’s shroud.
‘Tis hallowed soil this field I walk in silence,
My mind drifts through the past in heartfelt awe,
To praise the sons and daughters who lie buried here,
The heroes of a long forgotten war.
So little now is left of them among these fields,
They came here fuelled by courage, to fight and die,
But looking closer now I see their heart's blood,
In the poppies that bloom red beneath the sky.
Lest We Forget
¤Aü§Póꆙ¤
August 4th, 2001
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