Our pain is black and white
But grey is the memory of me leaving home
How is it, that on those frontlines
We felt united yet so alone
In my pocket, crumpled
Is a poppy
Wilted and long done its time
But symbolic
Of our lives and times on the lines
And with poppies and a day in November
We hope you remember, it’s all we ask
Please recall the despair
And the fog that further dimmed the air
When we left our mothers
And made new brothers
Short-lived comradeship
In the face of the opposition never-ending
That you recall our fear
And our pounding hearts
Because tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed
And you note that crimson is not just
The flower that blooms in the field
But the bloodshed
Despite the prayers read.
Please ensure our deaths weren’t in vain
And that your children know our names.
- Karisma xx