The Bakers Letter

Deep in the mud, **** and blood, Hidden behind pastures of razor wire, A lonely baker writes home. "My dearest girl, im doing good, But it's getting colder, were low on food. I don't intend on dying, but if I do, Don't think about me here on the line, I don't want that playing on your mind. Imagine us together holding hands, WalKing in Whitby along the sand. With every passing breeze I'll always be there. When the sun illuminates your rich auburn hair. I'm sorry my dear, but now I must go, Those bastards Germans want a show. I won't be home by Christmas. They lied. " The letter she received said, "he fought with courage, He fought with strength. He sacrificed himself for his fellow trench mates. You should be proud"