ART & POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER©
These delicate, translucent blooms are not much seen today,
A glimpse of what once used to be in fields along the way,
In sunny spots they flourished there, with shades of pink and red,
Reminders of when blood was shed and soldiers that fell dead.
Upon those fields the men who died, thought nothing of their lives,
They gave their last breath willingly, their purpose still survives,
The blood they shed filled fields with red, but new life came to be,
Their lives weren’t spent on emptiness, they set so many free.
Now poppies grow within those fields, sweet, dainty, fragile blooms,
Those flowers grow where others don’t, upon those deadly tombs,
Displaying life where there was none, where others fear to tread,
An everlasting monument and tribute to the dead.