The dark clouds returned and gathered about the boy His eyes grew distant, and he began to tremble He heard not only shells exploding, but the cries of dying menHe was stumbling over churned earth, looking into the faces of an officer, bloodied red as the poppies, ripped apart in the Flanders mudA small boy, an orphan of the First World War, wanders into the Austra The dark clouds returned and gathered about the boy His eyes grew distant, and he began to tremble He heard not only shel...
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