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D
David Harris
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In the field where flowers grow,
the dead lay buried far below.
The war they fought is over now.
Peace may they find at last,
beneath the fields that once run red,
with the blood of half a million dead.
The land is now peaceful and tranquil there,
no more carnage does it share,
no more thunder of dropping shells,
or the cries and tortured yells.
Just the ghosts of men who fought,
and died before their time.
(22 May 2007)
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