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I don't know where I got this poem from - but I use it every year in our schools Remembrance Day celebrations - there isn't a dry eye in the hall by the time it's finished (I usually dramatise it with the help of some of the children).
Why Wear a Poppy
by Mrs E M Simpson (Australia)
“Please wear a poppy” the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care.
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.
A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
“Lady” said he, “may I have one?”
When she’d pinned it on, he turned to say:
“Why do we wear a poppy to-day?”
The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered: “This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is a symbol for
The gallant men who died in the war.”
“And because they did, you and I are free –
That’s why we wear a poppy, you see.
I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
“He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird, he would race about.
As the years went by, he learned and grew,
And became a man – as you will too.”
“He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he’d seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day.
“When he smiled at me and said goodbye.
I’ll be back soon, Mum, so please don’t cry
But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
“His letters told of the awful fight
(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.
“Till at last, at last, the war was won –
And that’s why we wear a poppy, son”.
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said: “Thanks, lady, I’m glad to know.
“That sure did sound like an awful fight,
But your son – did he come back alright?”
A tear rolled down each faded cheek;
She shook her head, but didn’t speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me, you’d have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, is oft delayed,
Though our freedom was bought – and thousands paid.
And so, when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country’s call
That we at home in peace might live.
Then wear a poppy! Remember – and give!
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