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