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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