What’s Lost Should not be Forgotten

On the battlefields,

Many a man wields,

A weapon of death and power.

The gun, oh, the bullets shower.

And in the right time of the hour,

The vultures fly to their feast,

Of the many who have ceased.

A war to end all wars,

And 40 million knock upon Death’s door.

In many fields these many rest,

Poppies as a burial site, lest,

We forget those who fought for us.