A field of poppies gently blow before any war of friend or foe.

And when the rifles unleashed their lead brothers on both sides lay damaged and bled.

For when our heroes lay in pain hands reach to be helped and healed to fight again but not a war for themselves with many life struggles and often no help. As our Battlefield Poppies sit quietly, speaking none. Touching their hearts, their badge they watch the rising sun..

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Words by Ron Davis