This U.S. Army veteran wears a red crepe paper poppy on his Army Black Knights hat at an Applebees Restaurant, where he was given a free meal as a thank you for his service to our country..
"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."
Written by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, a Canadian soldier, physician and poet.
Good capture, perfect for the challenge word, good story, love the poem. It was in a book of poetry in my 5th grade classroom and I think of it every time I see a remembrance poppy. I almost know it by heart. For some reason, I always stumble over "felt dawn." Maybe it's because I almost always sleep past the dawn!
One year, an old Vet who looked like he might have fought in WWII was selling the poppies from a table in the roofed in area before you get into the grocery store. I guess because we were in a sheltered space and I felt we had liesure, I asked him if he knew the poem, and he got a sort of pleased sad smile on his face and said, "I know the one you mean, but I don't know it." I stumbled through it, and he joined in for the lines he remembered as they came along. It was very moving. (Of course, it's a WW I poem, but his generation was more familiar with than mine (Viet Nam War) generally is.)
@therubysusan They normally sell them here, too, but I didn't see them this year. Found this guy who told my husband about his military service and that four of his grandchildren went to West Point. They were still talking when we were both called to our tables. Thanks for sharing your story.
One year, an old Vet who looked like he might have fought in WWII was selling the poppies from a table in the roofed in area before you get into the grocery store. I guess because we were in a sheltered space and I felt we had liesure, I asked him if he knew the poem, and he got a sort of pleased sad smile on his face and said, "I know the one you mean, but I don't know it." I stumbled through it, and he joined in for the lines he remembered as they came along. It was very moving. (Of course, it's a WW I poem, but his generation was more familiar with than mine (Viet Nam War) generally is.)