November 11th came the day 

When everything was quiet and the world was saved,

Celebration flourished in the streets 

But not all those who wore smiles could bear the victory.

 

Fathers, brothers, sons, and friends did not come back from the horrors foreseen within.

The mud, and the blood stayed in their mind,

Creating monsters that wanted to dine.

Their stories were told and could fill a stage,

But in the end lives were lost so we could live again.

 

An adventure was promised to each man and boy.

But their songs of freedom and peace, soon turned into battle cries and screams of horror for the untold destruction of lives 

 

The boys who once played with toy soldiers were now wielding guns, 

And fathers who promised to protect were shooting down sons.

 

Towns and homes were destroyed by travellers passing by,

The ground was soiled by those left to die 

And it soon became to painful to cry 

 

Christmas was a light of hope and peace,

but they weren't told they would have two more to go until that dream was reached.

 

Letters were written and sent back home, telling of stories that the soldiers made up on their own.

 

In the mornings, families would wake to open the newspaper and search through a list of names, missing or dead is what they read.

Some would sigh in relief, while others were left to do nothing but howl a deathly scream.

 

The dead were buried by the thousands in a land that was not their own

They served to protect their homes 

 

We wear a Poppy to honour the soldiers who fought for our country, and carry the memories of those that could not be found. 

So on the eleventh day of the eleventh month during the eleventh hour 

 

Lest we forget