Battlefield

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Years pass.
Do they know?
Trees grow.
They saw.
Do they tell?
Do they whisper
To the passing deer?
‘There was a day
When Soldiers came,
The day when blood
Was spilled.’
Do battle cries
Still echo
Tree to tree
To warn of wars
Long past?

Clover blooms.
Do flowers know
Whose tribute they give?





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