Poppies toss freely in the breeze; they don’t know
the earth-shuddering rumble of tanks.
The larks sing joyously overhead; they don’t know
the song-drowning roar of cannons.
Pigeons bob peacefully along city streets; they don’t know
the terror of bomb-ignited infernos.
The people know. Every year they remember
in silence; they pray they’ll never hear
the thunder of bombers overhead,
the scream of anti-aircraft guns,
the tramp of military boots.
God help us.