11 November 2012
Selling poppes in town today,
The poppies, child, are flowers of love
for those brave men who marched away
But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.
But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child,
The blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the poppy is black Mummy.
Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief
for the men who never came back.
But why, Mummy, are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child,
For the world is forgetting again.
Planted by Sage at 7:00 AM