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.

Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae

To me the poem and the phrase "Lest We Forget" have always meant not to forget the ravages of war.  I have relatives, including my father (larger picture above) who served in WW II.  My great uncle Vinal died in France in WW I.  With war, we sacrifice - our loved ones, our planet, our peace.  

Perhaps we should Remember.