Poppyfield (Rememberance)

A crimson redolent of blood
Which marks you, ties you to your duty,
And makes me think that you were white,
That bloodshed did impair your beauty.
Perhaps you sat as white as snow,
When such tragedy began,
That all were slain, except for you:
The one stained red with blood of man.
Your centre, black as death itself,
Holds life so cleverly disguised,
That I see blood and death in you,
Though it is birth before my eyes.
I do believe that you were stained:
As nature's warning, nature's curse.
You represent a dire fate,
A reality that's so much worse.
Your numbers swell through hidden life,
We let your warning colour glow,
Lest we forget the nation's pride:
Those heroes who died long ago.


By
Kimberley Finn
(12th November 2004)