Poppies poppies, oh so red,
From the men that now lay dead.
Poppies poppies all around,
Poppies poppies on the ground.
They look so tall, but oh so pretty,
What a shame they grew for pity.
Husbands and sons they went to war,
And some got shot to the floor.
They all stood brave, to war they went,
By Politicians they were sent.
To the fields the trenches were dug,
Without food or water, a kiss or a hug.
Peace and quiet the scene today,
There is no war, but children now play.
In Flanders field the crosses stand high,
As if they were reaching for the sky.
Poppies poppies now blow in the wind,
You almost hear the soldiers sing.
— Anthony S.