The Foxglove By K.D

The Foxglove

The fox's red fur shone among the snow,
The snowflakes fall from above,
Bodies without life from long ago,
The battlefield below the foxglove.

Their arms reaching out, crying in desperation,
Guns silent in the grave,
Bullet after bullet taken for their nation,
Newspapers listing these boys as brave,
Families demanding justice in frustration,
Young lads, lives gone only for that attention they so craved.

As the sun rises, he sits on his bed,
He died on that battlefield,
Screams of horror filling his head,
His wounds unhealed,
Regretting the words left unsaid,
The truth concealed,
By the foxglove.