Just posted on Facebook by a poet friend of mine
The whistles could be heard
Along the trenches below
The young men weren't ready
But they had to go
Some held photos
Of loved ones back home
They charged together
Yet died alone
The bulkets n bombs
rang loud in their heads
Yet forward they ran
Running over the dead
A war against tyranny and for freedom they fought
A price was to be paid
Yet could never be bought
But their actions
Should be remembered
Even tho with regret
By wearing The Poppy
LEST WE FORGET
By Billy Isherwood
Love this poem......it's been in his head several days and this morning was finally written down.