Age 11 (24 .4.2005)
The Somme’s Poppy
The night is slowly dying and the sun is on its way,
The bovs are now gradually awakening in their own time,
But to what? Nothing other than hunger, terror and death.
Now the bugle solemnly plays Reveille,
In remembrance of those who are not forgotten,
But life goes on still, before the fight begins, and lives are lost.
On the battle ground, No-mans-land,
a flower has bloomed into the only beauty,
The Somme’s beauty, the Somme’s poppy,
It was the colour of our fallen brothers’ blood,
All the boys saw it; some had tears in their eyes
And though the war continues, yes, more death, terror, danger,
We cannot ever predict when we shall fall and fade
But we still fight for what’s right, our freedom, our life,
As for the poppy, it still thrives and grows
In remembrance of our fallen heroes,
I shall always remember our brothers and the Somme’s poppy.