Amongst the poppy fields there blows
The souls of those lost long ago.
Each blossom dances upon the grave
Of a brave soul that could not be saved.
Behold in Flanders, fields blooming red
Flowers standing tall to mark the dead
Nature’s honour to those left behind
In soil-wrapped tombs, their spirits entwined.
Those who never chanced to grow old,
The rest of their lives just stories untold
A promise from us to never forget;
Always cherish these fields bathed in deep red.
For every loved-one and Unknown face,
Will always be remembered
By Alexandra Pearce-Broomhead