I remember you.
I will go on remembering you. I wear my poppy with pride and think of you and every one of your fellow soldiers every time I adjust it.
I think you of you every time I see the cold stone of the war memorials, whether they are laden with flags and flowers as they are now or when they are bare but standing tall watching over us all.
I think of my great Grandfather, who I never knew. He was lucky enough to come back, but permanently scared, unable to breathe properly for the rest of his days but no doubt grateful for every half a breath.
I think of both my Grandfathers, Uncles and cousins who fought in the next war- the one after the war that was supposed to end all wars- and would never speak of what they saw. I think of my Grandmothers too, bombed out, bravely waiting, hoping and fighting in their own way. I think of the time they missed with each other and the consequences. I think of my friends who are fighting now, for a war they probably don’t believe in but who would never say so.
I remember you all.