It Runs Red
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A dry and barren moat
around historic tower, London’s pride
for many years in restful dormant mood
dreaming of days gone by
when swords clashed and armour creaked;
the yells and screams of battle filled the air.
Testament of courage and pain;
did those who fought there die in vain?
A dry and barren moat
now back to life to mark Remembrance Day
with a gushing flow of poppies dressed in red
reflecting thoughts of Flanders.
Who dedicates these scarlet blooms,
to souls that rest in earthen tombs?
A dry and barren moat
its open bleeding heart that drips with recollections
of destructive devastation and needless deaths.
Governments rise only to fall;
cries still trapped in the tower's wall.
A dry and barren moat
where visitors now see the red carpet
in place to praise bravery.
Haven't families of lost soldiers
earned a red carpet too?
Let them saunter somberly
above the moat, across the fields.
Such is the costly price of war;
buried loved ones we'll see no more.
A dry and barren moat
encases the historic tower,
a silhouette reminder at sunset
that no one wins a war.
A lone bugle plays taps;
it resounds through the crisp air.
A sad family walks away,
leaving tears on a floral spray.
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Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire (Nov. 2014)
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
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