Splashed with blood red to honour the dead, this thirsty meadow rests. Footfall of soldier on earth ever colder- remembered, again. Power-mad leaders, headstrong, and proud, Exploding words in the ear of the crowd- rhetorical petrol to feed greedy flames. Young men who fell in moments of hell, wild shrapnel their scythe. We fought for just cause and died in our scores, wilting, like poppies in fire. All nations entangled, Hope rudely strangled. They could once have been friends. Memorials set in stone and metal Poppies glad with bright scarlet petal, serve to show we respect the Fallen. Better yet would be kingdoms of love drawn under the banners of Cross and Dove ruled with compassion by the Prince of Peace. One day, all war will end. Peace and grace all grief will mend- Till then, we shall remember them.
“Respect the Fallen” (c) 2021, Richard Starling