Trenches

Trenches

These are the trenches we fought in
These are the structures that bear our names
These are the fields we bled in
And the poppies that grew from those crimson stains
Poppies that grew on regardless
Regardless of whose blood was spilled
The future just rolled on before us
Lessons unlearnt and unwanted truths killed
With only the crimson red petals
Light from a past darkened gloom
Scarlet dyed paper cut present
Symbolic of flowers’ bright bloom
Now plastic and cardboard mementos
A grim crucial yearly refrain
Lining these museum trenches
Till we’re fighting and bleeding again