Death To Flowers

Poem By Russ von Ohlhausen

Death to Flowers

Green, in bloom;
Lined in garden rows;
Sweet their fragrance,
Barely have they bud;
So worthy of freshest life,
March these Flowers.

Cut down for this cause;
Cause of some futile moment.
Death, in the field,
Sun dries their fading glory.
Dreams wither, wasted,
For this word ‘glory’, beauty taken.
Soon to push flowers.

March the Flowers;
And with flowers resting at their feet.
We send new Flowers.
Endless rows to discard.
To the ground we send them.
Where all the Flowers have gone.

(Regarding the 2nd Iraqi War)

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