One Less Poppy 1918

Written in memory of a sweet young girl 1905-1918 R.I.P. Always. "One Less Poppy" Halfway my new destination, no smiles or happy faces, As I look back in sadness at my old home, the one I loved, Filled with happy memories, Dad on a Friday night Ruddy cheeked, swaying, handing over his week’s worth. His loving hugs and kisses the biggest treats of all. Mum radiant on a Sunday morning, hair black, shining Curled tumbling down, a flowing lilac dress, black patent buckled shoes, lips toffee apple-red. Her soft cheek offered as not to smudge her lipstick.. And how grand we all looked in our Sunday best. And the stories we told under the cover of darkness, Warmed by the glowing fire. Then I fell ill, the worried look on their faces, As everyone cared for me, I saw dad crying for the very first time, I cried too. He held my hand, kissed my brow, Told me I was his brave little girl. My brothers and sisters played in the Autumn mist, Oh! How I wished I was one of them, Without a care in the world, Then the November rain cried too. Finally my day arrived, I wore my favourite dress Which was blue, and white buckled shoes, And not a peep so well behaved, as I said goodbye To my friends and school. And as I watched the sadness it became clear That I would never see them again. I’m settled now, no chance to read or brush my hair, No kisses goodnight, no Autumn leaves, Or Christmas gifts, no hugs from dad , ice cream, Or Sunday mass. Eyes now closed, but forever good. Surrounded by my starless sky , a curtain of longing Sways around me, childish antics, lovingly told. Just shy of thirteen, the day before the great war And my world ended. I was taken by the Spanish flu. One less poppy to remember, One less Poppy in bloom.