Why is it that the poppies grow?
A tiny voice did cry”
Child each poppy marks the place
Where soldiers once did lie

Each blood red flower stands
To remember those who died
As does that upon your chest
her stooped grandma replied

The lady slowly turned to leave
But the child refused to go
Bending down towards the cross
Half buried in the snow.

Slowly the small hands moved
To brush away the snow;
Until at last she read her name
Engraved so long ago.

The child in that moment
Grew so many years
As she turned to face her grandma
Face glistening with tears

And so two people stood in silence
Remembering the dead
Gazing at the stark white crosses
Stood amongst the sea of red.

A single bead of water glistens
Upon the frozen ground,
As tears mix with long spilt blood
That soaked the broken mound.