Where the dead lie the flowers grow,
The trees shoot tall and the winds blow.
Resting in their eternal peace,
Memories live on and never cease.
Weathered stone and faded names,
At home, broken pictures in broken frames.
The woosh of an aeroplane flys overhead,
To honour their sacrifice and salute the dead.
For they have died so we might be free,
Lives lost inland and those at sea.
For we recall all that they gave,
As we whisper quiet prayers beside the grave.
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.
Inspired whilst reading tombstones of fallen soldiers at Irthlingborough cemetery next to the church. Reading and performing Wilfred Owens war poems at London College of Music first got me interested in the theme of war in poetry.
