Adam, 28 december 2011
Poppies of blood stain the earthan floor,
In memory of thoes that are no more,
Thousands of poppies all so red,
One for each person that is now dead,
War-red Poppies line the ground,
All is quiet; Not a sound,
They deserve to live again,
Through these tiny Poppies they live,
And so in this month,
We give a blood red Poppie,
And through this field we will always rember.
By Adam Redfern
Adam, 28 december 2011
A Tree that once stood alone,
A Tree that was unstable,
And not very strong,
A Tree that did'nt have much of a chance,
A Tree that night did understand,
A Tree that was so afraid to let go,
For that reason,
That Tree never learnt to grow,
A Tree that never felt the warth of the sun,
Or made shadows in the moon,
For a Tree that never seemed to blossem into something new,
A Tree that with branches snapped,
And thunerstorms and huricanes beating on it's back,
A Tree that never grew up to be all it could be,
I wonder what was holding this tree back from his dreams?
By Adam Redfern
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