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. - John McCrae

November 11th. is very meaningful to me, my father never served in the military but was in a concentration camp for 6 years, 1939-1945. Every year when I buy my poppy I SINCERELY thank the veteran who sells it to me. Simon.

That was nice. On some of my runs I run past the veterans wing at Sunnybrook hospital. I like to wave at them when I run by if they are sitting outside.