In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

relate it to your own life. Do you know anyone you care about who may have left their life’s work unfinished at the time of their death? A relative, a friend, or even someone you admired? Were there contributions to this world they still wanted to make—in order to make a difference? And is it possible you could carry on that work? Carry on their legacy? Still help them make a difference? How? What would you do? Will you? Explain your answers in an essay at least one page in length