Lest We Forget

• Larni Vallance, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2015

Bullets whistle through the sky,Hitting those doomed to die.
The blood of foes hits the ground,Killed by my bullet with a bone crunching sound.
The war didn’t end overnight,It took years of struggle to win the figh.
Trudging through the poppy fields,
A heavy rifle is my weapon to wield.
Obliterating poppy’s with the bombs we throw,Coated with blood row by row.
A bullet fires, the end is near,
As I’m struck it confirms my fear.