Greg Freeman

WRITER

By coincidence I wrote this poem a few months ago, before I had heard of this project. I might dedicate it to the memory of my great-grandfather, who was killed on the western front. My grandfather was also there, and survived.

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Greg Freeman

WRITER

TO MY UNKNOWN SOLDIER

I hope these help to keep you safe.
Are you lonely at the front?
You have your pals, along the trenches.
And we have ours, inside the factory.
The laughs we have, us girls.
I didn’t mean, that kind of lonely.

That’s why I’m slipping my note
inside this box of ammo,
which, I hope, protects you.
It’s funny. Though we’ve never met
and maybe never will, I often
think of the things we’d do.

Have you ever been wounded?
It’s what they don’t say
that makes me think you have it hard.
I’m no canary girl, though we have
a few, and some get ill.
I know it’s worse for you boys.

The others say I’m always dreaming.
If you’re home on leave,
please look me up. We could go
to the pictures; if you’d rather,
the park. I’m Florrie Lee (I know,
sounds silly) 15 Gladstone Terrace, Bacup.

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