Photo courtesy of cemalbayram bayram
For some reason that I do not understand, a lot of my loved ones leave this eartlhy realm around this time of year. Here's to you, may we someday meet again. Shine down on us like a mother would shine unto her newborn, and give us your grace.
by Major John McCrae
Canadian Officer
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.
Discover Domingo!
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