POPPY:

I am the poppy, dug deep & mud fielded,

Where men, once guns & hatred wielded,

I´m not for pot, vase, urn or flowering bed,

I merely rest, where men have fallen dead.

 

I´ve put my roots, where good men once fell,

My colour red, is the blood of their living hell,

My seeds are their bones, beneath this earth,

And within their sad death, I gained my birth.

 

I´m young, frail & blushing, as they once were,

And as their bones, now too my roots, interred,

I, in my silent presence, to all humanity implore,

Remember, there´s never a reason to fight a war.

 

Please, do not cut me down, nor remove my seed,

I´m the flower, of where men were left to bleed,

Leave me peacefully, beneath my God´s great sky,

Leave me please, where brave soldiers came to die.