11/11 For My Brother

I wrote this when I was 10 in 1944 for
My Brother

For many years in foreign lands,
He fought upon the battle sands
And then he gave his life that we,
Might live in peace and harmony.

For many weeks they never thought
Of him who dearly our peace bought
And never did they think but once
For two small minutes what it cost.

They emphasise these minutes small
But can they know, no, not at all
What these two minutes mean to me
A sister of the one who died

They mean to me, ‘They do not care,
Or surely they would try to share
My feelings, not for minutes small
But all year through – the grief it brought.'

Thanks for reading, Thanks for remembering.