flanders fields

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.

it is valentines....
i started out in a good mood. got a cupple valentines from my aunts...
and now my mood dwindles.

Flanders Fields, is one of my favorite poems... well, honestly i dont know many poems, but this is one i contenue to go back to. i associate it w/ valentines day. i dont know why, maybe because of the color red, maybe because to me valentines marks the end of winter and the beggining of spring- note referance to poppies, one of my favorite flowers...
i realize it is aobut the horrers of war in france. but.... it seems fitting. today.