The Poppy

Much of Australia was in drought during World War One. This poem is about a young wife left in drought and poverty during that time.

Her tears gently fall
To earth that is so dry
They mingle in the dust
As she whispers goodbye

The course of her tears
Now long dried, is traced
In the dust filled lines
Life has etched in her face

Slowly she turns away
From the tiny fresh grave
And starts the lonely walk
From the child she could not save

Her man has now been gone
For these two long years past
A recent letter she received
Would prove to be his last

He marched away
With great pride in his heart
For distant King and Empire
He would gladly do his part

Now he lies in no man's land
Eyes unblinking in the rain
Just another of so many lost
For a few metres gained

There's no grave for her man
She knows there can be none
She sadly hangs his medal on
The grave of their infant son

Alone, she works the fields
Praying for sign of rain
Its been dry so many years
Little more can she sustain

When at last the drought breaks
Bringing rain the land craves
She finds a single poppy blooming
On her infant son's grave