In
Flanders
Fields,
mostly green, dotted with red
As far as
the eye can see
As far as a
wounded man can walk in a day
Think back
to days of WWI
Think back
to John and his friend Alexis
Search for
the patch of land when many lives were lost
Search for
the memories they want to forget
Rows of
crosses mark their final rest
Rows of
soldiers fall, gently through the fields of grass
Hear the
shots
Hear the
cries
See the pain
See the
futility of all this bloodshed
Of all this
waste of youth
Of all this
waste of generations
Fields,
mostly red, remind us of the past
And pass the
torch along
© 2010
Surrey, BC
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