We have been sent a poem by a lovely lady. She is an amazing lady who cares for her husband, who is a Veteran with PTSD. We would like to share it with you all as it is so relevant to us. Thank you honorary Wench, your poem is beautiful.xxx
Rose of no mans land 1914
Among the fields of poppies,
An English Rose did go,
To tend to British Tommies,
And nurse them row on row.
To comfort and to quiet,
To hold the ones that screamed,
The injured and the dying,
She spent her time between.
Off duty, she would talk with them,
Writing their letters home,
To mothers soon to be bereft,
To sweethearts left alone.
Young Jack she spoke to gently,
she heard his last requests,
By lamplight, taking a lock of hair,
And the buttons from his chest.
She gently wrapped the buttons,
With the lock of hair entwined,
Inside a note to Jack’s poor mother,
The tears, they left her blind.
Moving on between the rows,
To others yet to die,
Comforting and soothing,
Whilst asking “Why,just why?”
BY A UK Veteran’s Wife 2014