Down Flanders Way

down flanders way

Down Flanders way we wander, the poppy fields to see,
Hand in hand with grandad, there’s only him and me.
Each year I’m always there for him, and that will always stay,
Each time his thoughts go back again, when the world had lost it’s way.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   He turns to me, and tells me, of when he went to war,
He tells of countless men who died, and the horrors that he saw,
He tells of all their sacrifice, and all the blood they shed,
So many friends he lost as well, in these poppy fields of red.
My grandad now is crying, so i hold him close to me,
And tell him, “You’re my hero, and the best that there could be’!
But, now my grandad, has long gone, he sadly passed away,
But, still in thought, with him I’ll walk, along the Flanders way.
‘The Great War. 1914 – 1918’
Poem by Roger McNeal. Photograph by Mel Harland