As the Red Poppies flutter to ground



We remember on that day in November,

for two  minutes,

on that special day,

but do we forget,

for the rest of the year,

or do our memories silently lay;

like those who left us

so long ago,

and now lie in a far foreign field,

or do we recall,

that they stood their ground.

and died, rather than yield.


We stay silent as the last post  sounds,

and as the red poppies flutter to ground.

But do they remain,

in our hearts all the year,

those heroes

that lie cold in the ground ?


© david holmes November 2015



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I am not sure why these words suddenly arrived, but arrive they did, on 10/11/2015