America’s gift to my generation
“ And now we lie, in Flanders Field,” That was always my favorite line of the poem,but no-one asks a flower what their favorite line of a poem is more less anything.And no-one asks what a flower knows, or has seen .People don’t talk to us seriously because we’re just flowers.
The line in the poem makes me remember memories.The memories that haunt me show the sadness, the deaths, and me, standing there, swaying in the wind. In Flanders field I watched it all, the sacrifice of young men,I heard the bullets whip past me, the feeling you feel witnessing someone shot, and the ground being dug up next to me to bury a fallen brother. Most people don't think about the sadness of watching someone die not like I remember.Why
“ And now we lie, in Flanders Field,” That was always my favorite line of the poem,but no-one asks a flower what their favorite line of a poem is more less anything.And no-one asks what a flower knows, or has seen .People don’t talk to us seriously because we’re just flowers.
The line in the poem makes me remember memories.The memories that haunt me show the sadness, the deaths, and me, standing there, swaying in the wind. In Flanders field I watched it all, the sacrifice of young men,I heard the bullets whip past me, the feeling you feel witnessing someone shot, and the ground being dug up next to me to bury a fallen brother. Most people don't think about the sadness of watching someone die not like I remember.Why