Below this heaven...

Below this heaven, under this field,

lie the bones of the victims of war,

the fallen whose days were cut short,

whose future was the present and

whose present was without a future.

Below this darkening cloud-flecked sky,

under these red poppies newly sprung,

repose the remains of the hapless youths

who never had the chance to blossom

nor to grow old, for they never grew up

Under these poppies, within this rich soil,

far from the light of the now setting sun,

are all that is left of thousands of souls

propelled into of a war begun by others

and whose end they were never to see.

Below this same sky…

in these same fields…

men fought…

and men died…

and now here they lie.