CELIA'S POEMS

            No 134  July 29

 

            Iíve called this time weíre in right now,

              A ĒSilent WarĒ itís got to be,

              We donít know what weíre fighting,

              Something we canít feel or see.

 

              Itís been a wicked killer,

              Many people have all gone,

              Weíre trying to find a cure for this,

              As yet there isnít one.

 

              Yesterday I mentioned evacuees,

              A really sad affair,

              Children taken from their families,

              And then put into care.

 

              It was to try and keep them safe,

              From the cities being bombed,

              But though they went into good homes,

              For their mothers they all longed.

 

              If you had a spare room,

              For a child you could apply,

              I really wanted one to come,

              Our application was passed by.

 

              I remember lots about the war,

              And how it affected me,

              It didnít change my life too much,

              When it started I was three.

 

              My Auntie got an evacuee,

              From London, so far away,

              My Auntie brought him to our house,

              With Malcolm I loved to play.

 

              His mother came to pick him up,

              When the war came to an end.

              I was quite sad to see him go,

              He had become a friend.

 

              We were on holiday in Keswick,

              We partied in the square,

              The war at last was over,

              I didnít know Margaret Bragge was there.