I recall our holidays together, not so many years ago.
Wandering through the fields, I pointed out barley, maize, sunflowers, maize and, especially, wheat. We both agreed that our flag looked just like a cloudless blue sky above never-ending wheat fields. We saw wild flowers, cornflowers and dandelions – more blue and yellow – and there were poppies everywhere. You loved those red poppy patches then; you wouldn’t like them any more.
I’d visit, but I don’t know where to find you in those same fields now. Perhaps I never will.
What parent wouldn’t give their life in exchange for their son’s?
Wandering through the fields, I pointed out barley, maize, sunflowers, maize and, especially, wheat. We both agreed that our flag looked just like a cloudless blue sky above never-ending wheat fields. We saw wild flowers, cornflowers and dandelions – more blue and yellow – and there were poppies everywhere. You loved those red poppy patches then; you wouldn’t like them any more.
I’d visit, but I don’t know where to find you in those same fields now. Perhaps I never will.
What parent wouldn’t give their life in exchange for their son’s?
