Three Postcards
The first came from Weston-super-Mare
with the Grand Pier - newly-built - in view,
shining, stretching out into the distance,
and the sea, an unknowable blue.
with the Grand Pier - newly-built - in view,
shining, stretching out into the distance,
and the sea, an unknowable blue.
Unfamiliar, that neat hand of his, the black fountain pen.
But he was the one; she knew that even then.
The one after that she received two years on;
Tidworth station, as viewed from Church Hill.
A row of thatched cottages in the foreground,
the barracks beyond, then the fields, silent, still.
She propped it against a vase on their mantelpiece,
a wedding present from her niece.
The last was a busy port scene from Boulogne,
a censor-passed, heaven-sent souvenir.
'Crossing rough - but I made it!' he'd written.
When it's over, perhaps we can all come here!'
She pressed it to her stomach, the baby moved once more.
The telegram had arrived the day before. ~ Brian Bilston
Good to be reminded of the cost of war.
ReplyDeleteyour posts are so powerful, I wish more people saw them, so poignant. Thank you for these and for your service.
ReplyDeleteThis brought tears to my eyes. My dad was at Pearl Harbor, and it was several days before Mum knew if he was dead or alive - and yes, she was pregnant with me at the time.
ReplyDeleteDamn
ReplyDelete