Crawling

Crawling on the battlefield,

Through soggy grass and mud.

Around the gun shots,

Rounds on the round.

Over the fallen,

Those who didn't make it home.

The battle goes far and wide,

Father then the eye can see.

When it is done,

The field scarred forever,

Or at least for now.

The poppies will grow where,

The soldiers died or got hurt.

But the poppies will grow,

And we will remember,

Those buried below.

Those who gave their life for us.