A white poppy means peace.
So white is like our hands:
Unsoiled by the war we never had to fight.
And a flower’s always peaceful.
Peaceful like the dead.
The friend I didn’t bury,
The foe I didn’t kill,
And all those people I didn’t watch die.
But peace is not for the dead alone;
We live in peace, we breathe it.
I like my poppies red,
Like the blood I’ve never had to spill
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