Dear Editor:
Once again as our own names are read
And once again, you will remember the dead
You pin on your poppy, to remember our brave sons
Yet we were just farm boys from the farmers fields
But over here in these plough fields, our shed blood runs red!
Out of all those names that were read
Choose just one man, a soldier who bled
As you pin on that poppy
May it remind you of the One who has said
All of our lives are in His hands, to bless us instead!
Sytske Drijber,
Rockwood