Tired eyes brimming over with scalding hot tears;
I flick through the pages of pictures in my mind.
The High Woods
Sharing in your memories of the childhood you knew,
You descibed all your family, and the farm where you grew.
Your days work was hard, but with laughter and fun
As Granny cracked up on the 'whip, your Dad out with his gun.
You packed your bags annd trundelled, over the hills and far away;
Seeking adventures new, like children playing in fresh mown hay.
Climb up another mountain, follow another stream,
Create your fun and laughter until you find your dream.
Your Perfect Gift
You gave us life, your perfect gift
Memories of our childhood, happily we sift.
Lovingly, looking at your photograph,
Trace the contours of your face, your laugh.
Families In Mourning-Comrades Wear Shrouds
Enslaved, torn from their families and the normal walks of life;
Nobody had forseen the deprivation, hunger, terror and the strife.
Brothers, Sons, Husbands exchanging uniforms for shrouds.
Families now are mourning - shattered dreams, once silver lined clouds.