The royal oak is still standing
As the construction crews draw near.
This Sir Lancelot of the woodland
Now deprived of his sweet Guinevere.
While all around him were slaughtered
He stood in defiant  splendor.
Unable to prevent the carnage
But refusing to yield and surrender.
The town folk fought for conservation
But the fat cats money was to strong.
One tree was all we were asking for
To remain in the place it belonged.
We held a candlelight vigil
And chained ourselves to his trunk.
But the mechanical army was relentless
And cast us aside, like we were junk.
We prayed for a stay of execution
So that this historic landmark could remain.
But they laughed as they cut him to the ground
Treating him with their total disdain.
Now the woodlands is full of houses
With shops and offices a plenty.
And although it is full of bricks and mortar
To me, the landscape is barren and empty.
The destruction of nature for progress
Is a pill just to big to swallow.
To give up all of our yesterdays
Will not guarantee our tomorrow.

A field of splendid color
Stretches far across the plain
This rosy red silk blanket
That hides the tales of death and pain.
So many men were slaughtered
Each taking their last breath
While serving king and countries
On the poppy fields of death.

They fought in Northern France
And in Belgium's Flanders fields
Young men from many nations
Were mercilessly shot and killed.
Not realizing their future
They gave their life and rest
With both enemy and comrades
On the poppy fields of death.

How long will we remember
The sacrifice they made
The importance of their legacy
And the part their courage played.
They helped to mold our lives
By giving of their best
So long ago and far from home
On the poppy fields of death.

Between, their love and hate
I'm caught in the crossfire.
Was I the cause of this anger
Or the product of their desire.
I watch them as they argue
I laugh when they smile.
They take turns to bribe me
When their being nice for a while.
I don't want the candy
Or the last minute gifts.
Just a peaceful loving home
Instead of these constant heated tiffs.
If I've made them this way
Then I’m sorry and sad.
Because I really love them both
As they're my mom and dad.

If all you leave is a decaying corpse
And the skeletal remains of your life.
Then you've  failed to leave a legacy
For your children or your wife.

Fond memories are a treasure
More precious than silver or gold.
A foundation for their future
In a story that you once told.

Your love in which they showered
During times they needed you the most.
Left them refreshed, secure and empowered.
So, in your memory they would boast.

A tear maybe shed at your passing
Yet like the sun, a smile will break through.
Not because they inherit your riches
But with love, they're remembering you.