A Single Poppy

A Single Poppy

As the yellow mist rolls
across the fields of slaughter
The young soldier thinks
of his unborn daughter:

How would she have looked?
How would she have grown?
Would her heart have been full
From the love he had shown?

Would her smile have been his?
Would her eyes have been blue?
And shimmer in sunlight
Like fresh morning dew?

Yet, he knew not her mother
For, they had not yet met
But, she would be a corker!
On that you could bet!

But, never would they meet
Or, his body be found
For, blazing relentless
Rattled round after round

And his eyes are now burning
And his open wounds sear
And the blood flows like water
Becoming earth’s red veneer

As his weary head rises
In a scorched, barren land
There kneels a small child
With poppy in hand

Her blue eyes, like starlight
And a smile of his own
And she says, we’ll remember
Those lost and unknown

For, you are the Father
Of generations to come
You never did falter
Nor, give up and run

And all those who fought
We’ll live in your debt
Age shall not weary you
Lest we forget

Stephen W Atkinson 2021