Florence wears her poppy with pride.
Only a Bloody Mary to sit beside ,
fag a-dangle from painted lips,
burgeoning breasts child bearing hips.
All a-wobble; she waits for the last post.
Lips tremble; as she drinks a silent toast.

A widow of war; his body unfound.

Buried deep beneath foreign ground.

For peace he fought and lost his life,

Bullets, left lonly, a grieving wife.

Alone, eyes all a puddle, she stands,

Silently clasping her shaking hands.

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

While, we all remember them.

Do you think my attempt is too fickle for such a poignant rememberance? Leave me a comment its good to talk.

Thanks to the artist of Florence who holds full copyright, giffy for use of tumbling animation. Both poem and poppies are my own.

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While We All Remember Them.

Watch “Leonard Cohen recite “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae | Legion Magazine” on YouTube

John McCrae would be moved to hear this read today, and heaven knows them both now. Rest in Peace the Fallen, the tortured, and the maimed. We will remember so it never happens again.

Bristol Cathedral, a lone woman pays respects to the shrouded figures, these  represent the fallen British soldiers, on the first day at the Somme. This installation is by Somerset artist Rob Heard. Photograph by Matt Austin.