Submitted by Caitlyn Nichols, age 11, in the under 12 category

As we walk along the rows of white crosses

We think of those who gave their lives.

The war-torn battlegrounds,

The mix of the poppies, the soldiers, the dirt, and the blood

So different from where we live now,

The rolling hills and the bright blue sky.

We think of the soldiers,

Living for months in the middle of the battle.

The explosion of bombs,

The booms of cannons,

And the bang of gunshot.

The constant fear from loved ones at home

Of death.

And when the war was over,

The soldiers came home,

We appreciate more and more

Those who still lie

Under those blowing red poppies and sturdy white crosses,

In Flanders Fields,

The ones who

Fought the hardest,

Battled the longest,

And died in the highest respect.