Splashes of red engulfed the now quiet meadow
Tranquil to a fault, reflective battle in regret, conceded
As the poppies held their heads up high, swaying
Looking over the cascading cliffs at the stormy sea
And as the soldiers wistfully remember, today was the day
That the fallen gave their lives, memories of the pain
The bloodshed, the wounds, the gunshots and the dead
When death himself carried away those souls that had fought
Valiantly in the front line, memories which fled their very grasp
Of ghosted fingertips, lost in their fight, when the survivors won
Their right to stay on this day of rememberance Sunday
We mourn the loss of those that once lived, to give
Freedom, peace, and all that happened from before

A day of reckoning, with warring forces that thought
That it would not ever be stopped or won
When the dead of that era, and the living are here now
And the world remembers them, the wars they pledged
Their lives to their country, to do the duty that required
Strength, luck, digilence and instinctive skills
To survive another day, a piece in the chessboard,
Pawns that swept across the same old black and white
Pieces used that travelled across the world with all their might
To ensure that the wars were won and that no other war
That could take its place, indeed, when all was said and done

Those poppies have a lot to say in so very little words
They stand for the voices of the forgotten, when all was left Unsaid, those that gave their lives for us today
When the world, the tears that had been shed
...

We have no need for reminders what the wars were about
But to this day, we remember them, as the sombre words say all
Within the realities of today as traditions and legacies live on