Thursday, 11 November 2010

The 11th Hour, of the 11th Day of the 11th Month - Lest We Forget

Why are they selling poppies Mummy, selling poppies in town today?

The poppies, child, are flowers of love, for the men who marched away.

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy? Why not a beautiful rose?

Because my child, men fought and died in the fields where poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red Mummy? Why are the poppies so red?

Red is the colour of blood my child. The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy. Why does it have to be black?

Black, my child is the symbol of grief, for the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy are you crying so? Your tears are giving you pain.

My tears are my fears for you my child, for the world is forgetting again.


Author unknown.

1 comment:

  1. That's a very sad poem. And I didn't know that poppies had any meaning.