We had parents who would not let the children out of church to attend the memorial stone I wrote this about that thought.

PERSONALLY SPEAKING

I would not let my children
Stand at the memory stone
The days for all that nonsense
Is long since dead and gone.
She turned her head and walked away
Looking down on those who stay.

Her Father never faced the gun,
Her husband was born when the battle was won.
She sees no need for the poppy red
To remind us of the lonely dead.

Her oldest child, her pride and joy.
Her darling dark eyed laughing boy
Got his university degree
With cap and gown for all to see.

Has joined up and gone to train
The army needs men with a brain.
His training done he is quite pleased
To get a posting overseas.

To Bosnia he's flown out
To hold the line till peace breaks out
And all in all it goes just fine
Till his vehicle hits a mine.

As the petals fall down to the floor
No one notices there is one more.
She gently holds the petal red
Remembering her lonely dead.



Margaret H T Barclay - Laughton        1150pm 7th November 1998