Red, the colour of blood,
The blood that shouldn't have been spilt.
Red, the colour of love,
We love and respect them still.
Black, the colour of grief,
We wish they were still here.
Black, the colour of earth,
New life, new people we hold dear.
Green, the colour of the leaf,
Worn at 11 o'clock to show the date,
Green, the colour of spring,
When life is really great.
Poppies, the first plant to grow,
After the soldiers had died,
Poppies, the one thing that flourished
From war, when they said it was glory they lied.
YOU ARE READING
Pulvis et Umbra
Poesíawe write our stories on the silver black clear canvasses of our lives these are my stories i build them so you can relate and perhaps we won't be so alone *** "I really love these poems. They help me find myself in worlds where there is no one lef...
