A Poppy

A poppy, red as blood,

Alone in a field,

Thriving where a man now dead,

Lifelessly dropped his shield.

This poppy bears black dots

Peppered over its heart,

Like the merciless bullets

That tore families apart.

The petals that flap passive in the breeze,

As red as the ladybird that flutters by,

Make us remember the hard times they faced,

When so many men gave up their lives to try.

The wind that blows through fields

And makes this poppy sway,

Is the same wind that carried orders,

When innocent men were led astray.