picture it. world war one, there is complete devastation. buildings, roads, tree's, and natural life, disintegrated into seas of mud-- graves for soldiers while still more fought on. Only one think boomed. the blood red poppy. marking the graves of loved and lost soldiers.
then so this guy John McCrae, a poet, and a surgeon in the war went to his friends grave and saw red flowers growing fearlessly upon the graves of the soldiers so he makes a poem about it. The poem [ In Flanders Fields] would go on to be the voice of every man and mother who died of lost someone in the First World War.
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