Red Rose

Each morning we’d set out

for work

we’d laugh on the bus

we were two young men.

Red rose

red evening.

We set off one morning

together for the war

all of us sang together

we all fought together.

You were killed in May

your blood was mauve

it painted the sky black

the season red.

Everything was killed with you:

dreams, ideals -

we all became ghosts

we live conventional lives.

Our flags have become

goods for sale

our dreams commodities

of consumption.