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Blood Red Poppies
(C) 1991 N.Thomas / G.Birtwhistle
Ghosts
watch on remembrance day
As politicians mourn
Losses we
can't count the cost
And enemies
still scorned
Victims watch
their colleagues march
Wounded still
with pride
Towards a
token epitaph
For a victory
still denied
We scatter
our enlisted grace for patriotic hearts
Departed souls
in regiment and poppies stained with blood
A soul becomes
immortalised
A nameless,
faceless grave
A faded sepia
photograph
Pressed into
the rain
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