217 INTERMEDIATE POEM, THIRD PLACE Eric Felix Remembrance Lest we forget the times they fret The way they fought they gave a lot And now they sit six feet below where the poppies grow row on row To the soldiers that never made it To the families that waited To the nurses in their tent To the soldiers that were sent To the crosses that were painted To the people that were tainted They held on tight To that sliver of light For the pilots that 昀ew To infantry breaking through How they stood in the trench With the terrible stench How they tunneled in the ground To the bodies that weren’t found So here we stand on 11 11 11 To keep safety for the next generation
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