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Poppy Field Skies

The patchwork
Was threadbare
Until the needle struck
The final thread.
Tired eyes slept,
A weeping widow,
Smiled into his eyes.
As together they watched
poppies from the skies
Beneath the memorial, reunited they stood
Old and young, hand in hand,
I think of my grandparents and how they first
Met in an airfield, Burifa,
They named their house that.
Perhaps they still watch from poppy field skies?
Thoughts that were buried underneath, until they rise.
If you believe there is heaven.
Up above or here on Earth.
I hear snatches of Gran knitting and nattering in her home.
Before it came down
Those memories,
Grandpa was in the Air Force.
My gran a WAAF,
they didn’t say much about the war.
Except, where they left
I still see and hear them
Beneath poppy field skies

About Geraldine Ward

Geraldine Ward has been writing and performing various forms of poetry and prose from an early age, and is a regular contributor at the London Farrago Poetry Slam nights. She has published a number of books including the "Now" collection, and has featured in other publications including Katie Metcalfe's "Beautiful Scruffiness" series of magazines.


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