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At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month I will stop for a silent minute of thought. I will wear a poppy on my chest with pride and remember fallen heroes. Wear your poppies proud – lest we forget ♥
@eva licious wrote:
At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month I will stop for a silent minute of thought. I will wear a poppy on my chest with pride and remember fallen heroes. Wear your poppies proud – lest we forget ♥
Ditto :)
♥ lest we forget ♥ 11.11.11 ♥
One of my best friends is a lovely lady called Maddie. she has a lovely son called Thomas she hasnt had her son with her for the last cple of xmas’s because he is a serving soldier she is so terribly brave not letting him see how afraid she is for him she just carries on, i know today our thoughts should b with our servicemen n woman and i know im straying slightly off topic but i would like to dedicate this poem i found to my friend and to all those who are missing a loved one.
LOVE PACKAGES
As I open the door and step inside,
I glance up, and see her smile wide.
She knows who I am and why I am there,
And whose name is on the package I bear.
For I’ve been there many times before –
To that postal counter at the back of the store.The transaction is simple, just normal routine,
As I place the box on her weighing machine.
She checks the scale and stamps my form;
I pay, say goodbye, and go back out the door.
My thoughts drift to him, I try to be strong,
As I get in my car, and head back home.For the package I sent, just like the others,
Is full of love – to a son from his mother.
He is a grown man, of that there is no doubt;
But a mother’s love just never runs out.
My prayers and these packages are all I can send
So I will pour myself into both til the end.Until he is home with his family once more,
I will go to that counter at the back of the store.
And send love packages to my soldier faraway
In hopes that they somehow brighten his day.May the Lord watch over you and protect you, my son!
I love you!At 11am I stepped outside the shop. The centre management announced the silence over the tannoy and there was a brief sound of the bugle. All the other shopkeepers stepped out to their door too, and the majority of the public stopped wherever they were standing and bowed their heads. The silence and what it represented was moving, and after 2 minutes the centre management played the Last Post. Only when the music stopped did people start walking and talking again, and even then spoke in hushed tones.
The exceptions? Not the youngsters that were in town – even the babies and children in prams were quiet. The exceptions were 4 or 5 senior citizens, dotted around who asked what was happening. Two tutted and said “well I’ve come in to do my shopping, not for that.” The others looked embarassed to have forgotten. Fortunately these were very much in the minority.
Lest we forget.
For all those who paid the price for the freedom that some of us enjoy, and others dream of.
Each one a hero in someone eyes,
Lest we ever forgetIf I die in a battle zone, box me up and fly me home. put my medals on my chest, and tell my mum I did my best. tell my love not to cry, because I’m a soldier born to die. Respect to all the soldiers,
if it wasn’t for them, most of us wouldn’t be here today ♥♥♥♥Thanks Grandad
Thanks Uncle
and thanks to the boys in Basra who came home the quiet wayWhy Are they selling poppies, mother, selling poppies in town today?
The poppies, are flowers of love for the men who marched away.
But why have they chosen a poppy, mother. Why not a beautiful rose?
… Because, my child, men fought and died in the fields where poppies grow.But why are the poppies so red, mother. Why are poppies so red?
Red is the color of blood my child. The blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the poppy is black mother. Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is a symbol of grief for the men who never came back.But, why mother dear are you crying so? Your tears are like winter rain.
My tears are fears for you, my child. For the world is forgetting again
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