In the land of the poppies so far away
Come every November my memory will stray,
So long ago I still recall
My mothers brother, I knew not at all.
Every November a candle was lit
My mother told tales, us children would sit,
A legend passed on to my children’s’ ear
A never-forgot hero who never showed fear.
In Flanders fields I never have been
Nor seen the fields covered in green,
My daughter instead visited the grave
How humble she felt among so many brave.
Each November a candle I light
My husbands uncle was lost in that fight,
Two compatriots that I never knew
Their memories live on, in the hearts of the few.