THE POPPYFALLEN

On a grey Remembrance Day we prayed for soldiers lost in Hell;
The drizzled tears of Time still ebbing, silvering the years.
In truth I know now why I wept when all the poppy petals fell -
- - - There's still no hope in many hearts
- - - But tears, tears, tears.

The Last Post sounds and casts a tremor through the dust of Time
The severed lives, the dear names of young men in their prime;
The praying hands, the grasping hands ....the dying hands ....
- - - Our faith falters in the chill November mist -
- - - Is this all there is, or all will ever be ......?

Gunmetal skies drop leaden rain on broken hearts:
Like grief of long ago, it's written on the ashen cheeks:
- - -"Time cannot heal when memory is the prison guard.'
We cannot silence every gun or subdue every evil bane -
- - - There's still no joy in countless lives,
- - - But pain, pain, pain.

"They shall not grow old!' ........As we who are left grow old?
The granite words are shadows on the sky;
- - - But were they ever young?
Children still at play, and war has taken them away;
Born of the Earth, they returned to the Earth,
- - - And in between
- - - - They died.

Eleven times the tolling bell tells every man that he must die;
And yet we dig our graves with bombs and steal the Earth by force;
- - - There's still no peace in many lands
- - - But wars, wars, wars.

- - - The blood-red flowers of the fields .......
- - - - Remember them;
- - - The blood-red soil of killing-fields
- - - ........Remember them.

We saw no angels walk among them through that man-made Hell;
Yet under the storm-torn sky and searing blast they prayed -
- - - And God with the poppies shrouded them
- - - As they cried
- - - And fought -
- - - .......And fell.