Where Poppies Grow

By: EarlB , 11:24 PM GMT on May 30, 2012

Dark eyes,
Hundreds by hundreds,
Those dark-eyed, red-dressed
Watched as we passed by.

But now tears fill
Those sad, dark eyes
Not the smiles
That first greeted us
As we passed by.

Oh, here in Flanders
The dark eyes spill their tears
On the breasts
Of those they loved,
Now long passed by.

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The views of the author are his/her own and do not necessarily represent the position of The Weather Company or its parent, IBM.

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