Where Poppies Once Grew

By brian francis

When battle’s rage rends the sod
In the harvest of souls called war
The seeds of poppies touched by sun
Bloom there in war’s tortured loam

When rockets scream across the sky
And mortars are punt to reach on high
Falling on the enemy troops bringing death
And sprouting orderly white stones

Today those fields are green and fresh
Where the soldiers lay side by side
The pleasant sweet gentle breezes
Lift the flags waving in the sky

Row after row after orderly row
Soldiers lie in repose beneath the stones
Still pridefully groomed one hundred years on
Devotion still honors this place

Sacrifice rings a long pealing bell
And the locals all remember its tone
So they care for this place exceedingly well
Remembering when they stood – not alone

Author’s Note: Ypres reservoir cemetery “flanders fields”

Copyright © 2020 brian francis