Poppy Poem by David Wood

O sweet scarlet poppy how strong you do grow
The earth has no finer flower I know
I see you in fields by roadside or lay-bys
Your seed is taken wherever the wind cries
And where they fall they make their sweet bed
And remind us all of Our Glorious Dead
They were found scattered among Flanders field
Where young soldier’s lives gladly did yield
They speak of the horrors the hell of all war
The rivers of blood the guts and the gore
Sweet flower of the field your legacy goes on
A symbol war of young lives that are now gone
O scarlet flower of delicate red
Reminder of Our Glorious Dead