Those red poppies
Are all that we give to those who receive
They died on the bloody fields
They wept their tears
But determined to succeed
They hid their fears.

As their hats fell I hear the shear shudder
As there hats fall I hide undercover
For I am not a true solider
Who died in these wars

But I am the young sister who cries and morns
For the loss of my brother
Who knocked on heavens door