Features & Stories
Iíll Wear a Poppy

In Flanders Field,

The poppies grow,

Beneath the crosses,

Row on Row...


I was only six,

When I learned that rhyme,

And it seemed like a distant,

Place and time.


When soldiers sacrificed their lives,

For kids like me,

So we could grow up feeling,

Safe and free!


Mike Puhallo


Other articles by Mike Puhallo

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