Dear Editor:
A poem for Nov. 11, entitled Go to the crosses.
Go to the crosses
That stand row on row
In quiet reflection
Hear the wind moan
As it cries for lost lovers
Lost sons and lost friends.
It cries because it knows
War never ends.
Go to the crosses
Give thanks for the grace
That let all those others
Lie in your place.
Hold holy the loss
Given for you
Let your thoughts rise
In deep gratitude.
Go to the crosses
That stand row on row
In quiet reflection
Let your tears flow.
Joy Lippai,
Arthur