REMEMBERING those who gave their lives at this time of year.
We went to the seaside my father and me,
I stood there amazed as he looked out to sea.
His thoughts were of ships and days on the wave,
Of his mates all deceased to a watery grave.
Memories die hard for merchantmen true,
Who braved all the oceans to bring trade home for you.
Remember them well when poppies rain down,
And the unsung heroes of mariners town.
Well my dad is no more, his memory dear,
Of a man made of salt, his duty so clear.
To return to the seas of which he adored,
His 53 articles* packed ready and stored.
*53 articles – a clean pair of socks and a pack of cards.
D G Dickenson,