Looks like being a fine day; how red
the poppies in the sunlight.
The whistles blow.
From the now almost home of the slit trench
Over the Top, boys! This is it!
Soon back. The slit trench
is blessedly quieter now
in its six feet.
A medative piece Michael. The whistle blows makes it sound like a football match. Those aware of the history will find this piece ironicaly sad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poppies, say it all. Lets not forget them 10/10 Regards Tom