Why they sell poppies.

I received this poem in an email from one of my friends and thought I would post it as it continues on my theme of Remembrance.

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 Mummy?
Red is the colour of blood, my child
The blood that our soldiers shed
The heart of the popy is black Mummy
Why does it have to be black Mummy?
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