Virtue surrendered to the madness of a battlefield
now leaving no reason of strength for the fight
this body so weary from all of man's battles
I know I live on, but only in spite…
for all the beauty I knew has been taken now from me
and left me nothing but grey skies and rain
all the colour has drained from the blue sky so high above
and memories are all now that remain…
memories of all the buttercups
and red poppy fields stretched far and wide
memories with fields of golden corn
…memories of burning pride
memories of how once I laughed
running free through the trees
then memories of how my life just changed
when my memories were all of me?
A poem about being old and forgotten
Dedicated to a very old friend Peter (The Greek)
