poetrygarden

  Mothers waved goodbye to there sons they would probably never see again, there hearts were heavy they turned to work to ease the pain. The lads had know choice but to join up there was no "I do not want to go", if they were fit as far as could be seen, they went. Many not as courageous as they pretended to be. They knew they might never see home again or there own mothers face.

  They had seen no life they were out of school and onto the front line spending there time in a dirty ditch seeing some of there friends die wondering when it would be there turn, or if this hell would ever end. A parcel from home of all the things mum did make only made them feel gutted and tears streamed down there faces with the longing for home and normal life.

  I can remember the aftermath of war every thing seemed dull, windows still taped up, sirens still ringing out every couple of hours. Drab dark houses and dark clothes and little food. Horses delivering our milk in the mornings and bread at lunch time. A man coming round on a cycle with a long  pole to light the gas light in the street. Those parts i loved, the horses and the gas light.