Delicate flower

When I see the poppy so bright and red

Many thoughts start to run through my head

 Many went to war without a second thought

And in a bloody melee they were caught

Many were maimed and fell to the ground

There they lay without a sound

Waiting for a hand that never came

Was this all part of a soldiers game

Where they lay, the ground became their bed

Now grows the poppy so bright and red

So now on the eleventh hour

In their memory we lay this delicate flower

Without their sacrifice things could be so different yet

I for one will never ever forget.