Terry Flood | + Follow Poet |
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Letters To the Lady

Troop ships loading, crowded docks
Mums and sisters waving off
Go with keepsakes, golden locks
Some men hug while many doff

Eric, soldier single stands
Beryl, lonesome widow cares
Many kissing holding hands
Eric stands and Beryl dares

Bump the soldier, make excuse
Apologizing spurious
Didn't see you, just a ruse
By yourself? Just curious?

For my King I leave this shore
Family none to wave today
Orphaned fourteen eighteen war
But thanks for asking, A okay

Husband, brother, both my sons
Sent to fight that last great war
Lost to save us from the Huns
Yet armed young men march off once more

For now the Nazi's wield their cleaver
Daughter serves in secret France
Wave goodbye to every leaver
As Britain stands its bulldog stance

Could I maybe write to you
Tell you if I'm keeping well
By return you could write too
All the news from home to tell

Letters travel hither thither
Early short though later long
Each await the next deliver
To proxy mum, to proxy son

Told of friends, the muddied dead
Told of cycling in the park
Told of rapid fire lead
Told of lights out in the dark

Told of Stanley 'saved my life'
Told of puncture walked instead
Told of guilt and poor Stan's wife
Told of Monday baking bread

Told of fight to keep his head
Told of break in London rains
Told of dreams of silent bed
Told of cleaning out the drains

Then from home no letter came
One missed turned to two
Sent another all the same
If you wish, my last to you

Watched as many friends have gone
Yet strived to battle through
With your words I've soldiered on
I send my thanks to you

And if I've now received your last
I'll fight this battle still
And though my orders stand me fast
Weakened is my will

And though the letters came again 
Something different subtle
Word from home to give him gain
An end to her rebuttal

News exchanged with one another
Til the end of war
Wrote his friend and wartime mother
Soon be home once more

Taxi stopped at known address
One more shock of war
Flattened houses three abreast
Bombed six months before

Sorry Son the neighbor said
Last bomb was a belter
Beryl's gone, the lady's dead
Never took to shelter

Wooden cross that states her name
A most confusing sight
For dead can't welcome soldiers back
But neither can they write

Pondered letters to and fro
Kit bag shouldered, turned to go
Twenty-two-ish, slim, demure
Are you Eric, shy, unsure

Had him at a disadvantage
For she knew his name
Yet Beryl's manner came to mind
And saw in her the same

Saw me through it, note by note
Wrote me like a mother
Even gone for six months now
How could she send another

For my loss they sent me home
From service 'cross the water
Found your notes in mum's effects
For I am Beryl's daughter

Tried to tell of Mum's demise
Your need it seemed profound
And so I wrote on her behalf
Intentions kind and sound

I've battled bomb and bullet
War's sick and ugly truths
As soldiers we prepare for that
But bomb's crashed London's roofs

Yet you deny me any word
Of Beryl's wicked fate
Could have mourned her long before
Instead of six months late

Produced for him a folded note
Regret I made that error
These words reveal, in your hand wrote
Your anguished lonesome terror

Read it once and read again
Bomb's and bullets in his head
Reminder of the inner pain
Of man resigned to being dead

Single tear 'pon pencilled word
Couldn't have survived
But for your notes that reassured
Though they be contrived

Turned and silent walked away
So much he'd hoped to tell
Turned to where the daughter stay
She who'd lost as well

Called across to Beryl's girl
Could use some company
Would you care to walk a while
Or share a pot of tea

Two years on friends shuffle in
A church ceremony
To witness there the christening
Of little baby B


First posted 1 April 2021 (but written earlier)
For: Your Personal Favorite
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins

Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2021

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Tom Cunningham Date: 4/1/2021 3:08:00 PM You captured the wartime spirit in this epic verse Terry A brilliant write, you must have spent ages on it Tom Login to Reply Terry Flood Date: 4/1/2021 4:27:00 PM Hi Tom. I wrote this some years ago but it was too many characters until I went ‘premium’. When I get an idea for a novel but know I can’t find time to write it, I notarise it in poem form for future reference. This was one such, along with ‘No God Of Mine’ and ‘The Bone Idol’. Recently, I thought ‘Sod It’ set them free. Thanks for taking the time to read this lengthy poem. Terry