Poppy
Why is my poppy plastic
with papery petals,so small
against the vastness of history?
its redness dulled,not by
blood of forgotten armies,
only the marching of time.
Like memories of those
Flanders fields,where
lives fertilise the ground.
To Fallowfield and Urmston,
a neat row of poppies
silent in their November boxes
No comments:
Post a Comment