minceir

Where is the lost, that cannot be found
is it in a tree, though naught but souls lay hidden

Where do they hide, why can't they be found
are they there, in a forest full of sounds

How did we lose them, gouded by fear
tis tears that full, for the lost and a sound.

Remember this, I tell to you
go hence and beat the drums, sound the horn

for the cavalry will charge and the infantry will run
on a ground made of red, stumble and youth

in what was the paddock of wheat and barley
Now a field of poppies, red of the blood of sacrifice.

For us.


Rememberance Day 11 november 2005
For Grandfather and all those who are still lost in the memory of war.