Flanders Field

The once battlefields of Flanders Were soon clothed with Poppy red Perhaps a natural reflection of All the blood that had been shed. The War Cemeteries laid out In lines of stones or crosses A constant stark reminder of The scale of a nation’s losses. Each bearing rank and name Just brutally stating the fact Listing the tragedy of a war And it’s inevitable impact. Many of them are anonymous Their identities not known Only that they were casualties. The battlefields had grown. With a simple inscription That could say no more In carved block letters A soldier of the Great War Crops of simple monuments Like lines and rows of teeth Signifying to the world at large A hero lies interred beneath. Though visitors know Just what to expect The very magnitude Brings stunned respect Some stand in silence Some stand and cry Some quietly ask The simple question why?