Flanders Fields

Through Flanders fields old ghosts cry and weep Through the petals of blood red poppies Even the soaring birds mute their mournful cry In deference to souls sacrificed in vain The end of all wars was a prize worth dying for Those that lie here never knew the truth Blood that spewed from their shattered bodies Never quenched the flames of awful war Now they wave to a world that has forgotten them From a bright red carpet in Sanctuary wood Singing unheard songs of never reachable peace In tongues varied but understandable to all