I recently received this from a lady whose father was part of an aircrew and F.T.R.
As she said in her email to me "It's probably done its rounds before but is still appropriate for this time of year"

The Inquisitive mind of a Child

Why are they selling poppies Mummy?

Selling poppies in town today

The poppies, child are flowers of love for the men who marched away

But, why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?

Why not a beautiful rose?

Because, my child, men fought and died

In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red?

Red is the colour of blood, my child

The blood our soldiers shed

The heart of the poppy is black Mummy,

Why does it have to be black?

Black, my child, is the symbol of grief

For the men who never came back

But, why Mummy, are you crying so

Your tears are giving you pain

My tears are my fears for you my child

For the world is forgetting again