• I stand above the miles of beauty,
    Upon my perch on the balcony.
    I stare out towards the poppies,
    Remembering his face.
    As pale as the white carnations,
    Red as a poppy when shy.
    I remember his voice,
    As sweet as the smell around me.
    I can still recall him being a tower,
    As tall as a sunflower.
    His eyes were so full of life,
    Like the visiting hummingbirds.
    All this now gone,
    Gone off to other gardens,
    Off to War.
    Oh the world is a field of hurt.
    To be a flower would be nice.
    No worries, no wars.
    Just the wind and my love's arms around me.
    Such simple things are not to be graced easily.