Narrative

On a battlefield blood lies congealed 
in pools of deepest red. 
I'll say a prayer for the eyes that stare 
for the tears they'll never shed. 
 
I see then the kin of the men 
who had gave away their lives. 
Their dads, their mums and their young sons 
and lonely widowed wives. 
 
They say one day while the children play 
and the world is not insane. 
No wars will rage on this Earthly stage 
and peace again will reign. 
 
With poppy's red we will mourn the dead 
salute the deeds they've done. 
With air now still no need to kill 
so put away your gun. 
 
In the autumn rain i will stand again 
while my eyes fill up with tears 
At a marble cross i will thank the ``Boss`` 
for the peaceful years. 
 
For the service men whoever they fought for.

A battlefield