The weight of paper lies gravestone heavy,
Unknown,
Red heart petals of broken lives-
Piled high. Stacked. One on one.
Bearing blackened soul of bleaker times.
Lest we forget.
Yet, how quickly.
We do forget.
What once was then-
Continues more.
And so we pay respect.
As the barrel fires - still -
In Flanders poppies grow,
Among the crosses we should bear-
Lessons learned.
Unlearned at will.
About the Creator
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