Poppies

Poppies they say adieu, goodbye, men fought, yet did not want to die, Poppies were tossing, waving free, as war took lives so poignantly. Poppies upstanding, boldly grow, youth enlisted but did not know, Poppieswould represent such pain, that they would never forget the slain. Poppies beautiful, fresh and new, All one bright colour, flawless hue, Poppies petals see where they land, upon a face, an arm or a hand. Poppies vibrant, stunningly red, softly surround each silent head, Poppies fragile, dainty and neat, guard the space around their feet. Poppies carpeting the hard ground, where the marching of boots resound, Poppies whose wind blown seas of blood, captured them like a mighty flood. Poppies tell of their dreams long lost, , we hear their names, we count the cost. Poppies bring tears as we recall, our loved ones parted from us all. Poppies they say goodbye, adieu, men fought for me, they fought for you. Those tossing poppies, waving free, mean remembrance to you and me. Copyright. Ernestine Northover