No matter where I live or what the local traditions are for November 11th, I always start looking for poppies. It's what we did where I grew up. The weather meant we were wearing coats all month long and it was grey and dreary so the bright red flower really pops: We don't have that kind of celebration here in The Jungle, and it sure isn't cold enough for a coat, but I miss the poppies. The poppies and the poem; In Flanders Fields. I posted the poem itself once, a few years ago. This time I thought I'd share the poem set to music. It was probably the first piece of music that really moved me.
This isn't exactly the way I remember the song from the poem after so long - my memory isn't all that apparently - but this is a sweet rendition and the images are touching. They remind me of my grandfather somehow, though he was barely born when WWI was raging.
It says Remembrance Day to me:
This is me, lest we forget.