Blood Red Poppies

• Annika Velasco, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2015

We say goodbye, as bullets fly.
Forever remembered, the strong and brave,
We remember them for what they gave.

They gave their lives for our freedom
And forever we are grateful.
The poppies grew,
As red as the blood from those who bled,
Around the graves of those who are dead.

Though they are gone
They may rest in peace,
For the guns are back in their sheaths.

After the war,
Many kneeled at their graves weeping,
But the memories of their loved ones
Are theirs for keeping.