I am but an old man that lives in the past
I'm all alone and my years will not last
Of precious time, I've nearly spent it all
For soon I must give up life's precious cup
Sind my way to heaven or not wake up
Those dear meoraies now come flooding back
A strange childhood in midst of world war
When some foreign fools chose a battlefield
As this boy saw strange bombers in the sky
And grieving aunts for dead husbands did cry
Now food was scarce on our dining table
But gardens were planted with vegetables
I ate the leaves hedgerows to fill me up
Government gave free milk to kid at school
And a pre-war adverts us boys did drool
Crockery was chipped could not afford more
Such is the impact of a long lasting war
Once went to grandma's to see roses flower
Glorious yellow and pink blooms, such flair
Beauty that us boys were quite unaware
Image found at www.pixabay.com
Your war memories always fascinate me, Robin. I love this poem of reverie. I do much looking back, as well. Life has been good, has it not, my friend?
ReplyDeleteMemories tend to come more often the older we grow. I have a few years on you, I think and I am having sooo many I might start writing on my memoirs again. You should write yours. If it would be free I would read it. :-]
ReplyDeleteWhen I was first married, first marriage, we were I was in the military and very poor. We would scrounge empty milk and soda bottles to sell before paydayd for money to buy milk for the two, then three kids.
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