by Lea Prough

blood smells of old Italian operas and children’s lollipops

dark green and brown uniforms litter the ground

steely eyed soldiers wear blank, listless expressions

guns fall from limp cold hands

fire rains across a once delicate field of poppies

a menacing crack fills the air as yet another soldier becomes a forgotten casualty,

an addition to the graves being dug

bullets rain as one more wife becomes a widow,

and yet another child becomes an orphan

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