The Memory
Sit down my child and hold my hand
and I’ll tell you of someone in a faraway land.
Where he lies with his comrades resting at peace
In a war grave at Mikra, somewhere in Greece.
Many years ago, he was called up to fight
For all he believed in, steadfast and right
Just twenty three years was his age when he died
And my love for him still, fills me with pride.
This is my memory from so long ago
of someone you would never meet or know.
Who gave of his best and finally his life
Never sharing the joy of children and wife.
But now you have come to the age of reason
as time passes through each changing season.
I know you will visit him in that distant land
where he lies now at peace, beneath the dark sand.
And when you arrive, in the warm Grecian air
Please tell him I’m sorry, I could not be there.
My race is now run and I still shed a tear
for the loss of his smile and all he held dear.
But when my dear child, you return home again
I know you will have no sorrow or pain
for his spirit consoles, as you bring all his love
and tell me he waits in heaven above.
When soon I depart, let there be no soft tears
I then go to my son without any fears
He will not be lying on some foreign shore
but with me in Heaven for evermore.
By Irishdreamer
© 2008 Irishdreamer
(All rights reserved)
| |