War is what people think of when looking over a battle field

Flowers wilted

Sky Grey

Bodies littering the ground

Like paper

Thrown out and forgotten

Waiting to decay

When people think of war

They think of

Death

           Soldiers

                         Blood

                                     Guns

What they do not think of

Is the flowers reappearing

Growing and meaning

Something to someone somewhere

It may not be fair

But I hope these flowers continue to grow