“I found the letter in a cardboard box,
Unfamous history. I read the words.
The ink was frail and brown, the paper dry
After so many years of being kept.
The letter was a soldier’s, from the front—
Conveyed his love and disappointed hope
Of getting leave. It’s cancelled now, he wrote.
My luck is at the bottom of the sea.
Outside the sun was hot; the world looked bright;
I heard a radio, and someone laughed.
I did not sing, or laugh, or love the sun,
Within the quiet room I thought of him,
My father killed, and all the other men,
Whose luck was at the bottom of the sea.”
Sunday Sayings: : Clifford Dyment’s poem for Remembrance Sunday & the 100th anniversary
4 thoughts on “The son”
An absolutely beautiful poem lamenting war and lost hope for a generation and generations to come.
And not one of the well known poems either but it speaks volumes
My grandfather too. Tangled in the launching ropes of a surveillance balloon. Such a ‘silly’ way to die, so close to the end of the war. UNlucky, yes.
So sad – another unfamius history Diana – so many ways to perish in war
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