In fields where we lay

In fields where we lay (Title)

Through battle lines,
a revelry of bullets
peppered the air.
Shouts, of anguish in the night. 
Voices fearful, filled with fright. 
Each of us knowing that
this could be our last.
As a bullet ripped from the carcase of a gun.
Enters our bodies one by one. 
Lights fade out, until
we are gone.
But still our memories
linger on.
For in a field
standing proud, poppies
tall and bold.
As blood red, reminders
of the lives that were shed.
Each lovingly remembering as each, nods its head.

Copyright ©2014 Deborah M. Hodgetts 
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