(For Liam O’Neill and in memory of my grandparents) br br The poppy’s capsule oozes juice br That brings us sleep, helps ease our pain. br On one more continent the seeds br Are mixed with dust and blood as we br Forget that we must not forget. br br The poppies bloom, their beauty fades, br Their petals scatter on the ground br In Flanders or in Afghan fields. br While poppies weep their latex tears, br We plant our flowers once again.