In Rememberance

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

On our recent trip to Ypres, we visited Essex Farm Military Cemetery ~ the place where John McCrae penned this well known and moving poem. I was delighted to find one lone poppy blowing in the breeze and straight away I knew I would use it for today. Out of the few shots I took, I chose this one as it has my parents in the background and the war graves behind them.

Lest we forget.