Some lay, where no Poppies grow.
(Many of us knew those who have survived the war(s) ,
to later pass on with debt to their legacy.)
I like to hope, our prayers divide,
spread evenly cross time and tide.
And solicit succour for those who fell,
on battlefields, or who later died.
For all in their prime, their potential, denied.
For the walking wounded, release. With pride.
Whether ally, or foe.
Slain in battle, or no.
Remember, even though,
some lay, where no Poppies grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem