In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army
I'm a girl from around the bay. A runner, mother, daughter, sister, wife, an average run of the mill Newfoundlander with an overly active imagination.
I spend my days making mistakes and then trying to fix them before I get caught.
My life is random!