Flags, Fellows and Flowers

Mother war calls us.

Its cries of shots and fire sound.

Father peace long abondoned us, we his children seek;

But he cannot be found.

We walk  sisters and brothers marching together

The sun rise at our heels, our eyes dare not droop.

Because we the people must stand alert,  with hearts steel, lest death the watchman snoops.

The flag becomes more than an anthem  or an aged song

Each color it holds becomes a prayer to heaven, for home.

We seek to stop the pour of red, praying for clean of peaceful white

We hope to see the sun set and the stars shine at night.

Yet the blueness of our calamity glows dark still for fellows fallen

sore.

For death cut down their flags of hope, leaving behind the loving hearts they once bore.

War sends no apologizes just sorrowful mellows.

We pray and fight for freedom and search for father peace to end  every war.

But, will there be more poppey-scented fellows? 

Will the young babe grow to hear grandmother's tearful showers?

Why isn't Father  Peace near?

Does Father see, and cry MOTHER NOMORE?!!

 Does mother not hear?

Or Does she smile gleefully, as her children writhe heedfully?

And their lost love, gets last love's flowers?

Yes, we fight a war not understood

Our hopes written in the flag,

Our fellows falling where the darkness stood. 

Flowers grow where fellows fall 

One only hopes  peace ceases its  lag. 

Yes hearts cry! Rise early oh brothers and sisters!

Keep young hearts steel against firey blisters.

Fight the hopeless hollow!

Yes mother war does call. 

Hopefully one day,  Flags, fellows and  flowers will cease this treacherous follow.

And oh Yes!  Maybe Father Peace will truely come home...to all