I wrote verses from a very early age and filled books with them. Then I moved onto short stories; only rarely written anything but the occasional haiku. However, I am revisiting my scribbles and reworking some that go back nearly 50 years.
This one is a little more recent and is the poem that I wrote following my first visit to my grandfather’s grave in Northern France in 1998.
My mother was thirteen months old when her father was killed on November 2nd 1918. He was 31 years old and had been home for her birth following his third wound of the war since joining up in 1914. He had received this latest one when rescuing one of his officers from the front line. He received the Military Medal for his bravery.
He returned to the front when Mollie was six months old. Her mother told her stories about him…
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