"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
At the centenary of WW1, we will remember them.
Remember me, when I am gone.
When life has lost another one.
Let me slip beneath the fires of hell,
Unnoticed by an unwelcome knell.
Let me not be scarred by war
As all I know that went before.
Youth becomes me even now,
As I take to the stage, a final bow.
When the emptiness of death
Has taken all but one last breath.
I will not think of starry skies
Or waste good air on wordless cries.
I shall leave it all instead,
To this tiny flower, stained with red.
The poppy grows all caked in mud,
It thrives in rubble, dirt and blood.
It stands alone as if a flag,
Waving out this bloodied rag.
Declaring loud for all to see,
a silent, iridescent plea
That asks if you remember me.