In the trenches, the shadows loom,
Noises of guns in the gloom.
We are deceased, a short way below,
We were once living, long weeks ago.
These are dark days, war is doom.

We lived dawn, dead when sunset glow,
and now the crimson poppies blow.
Felt love, it will still grow.
Dark days, we will not go.

In the sky, the planes still bravely fighting, fly.
We cannot fight, but we still cry.
Dark days, we had to die.

Competition Winner!