Voices From The Past Poem by Owen Cullimore

Voices from the Past

As evening sets across Poppy Fields
In dark of night, silence yields
There are voices on the breeze
Occasionally, a distant sneeze
All imagined I'll be bound
In silence, surprising, one hears every sound
Are the voices real or just in thought?
Or just sounds the wind has caught
Playing tricks upon the mind
Of poor souls that have been left behind
Only those who listen there
People who really care
That then loved ones are now so alone
Maybe being there helps to atone
No one's forgotten, always grieved
These souls forever to be relieved

Remember them Always