Air Raids on London

My wife Betty Pickersgill (nee Cullen) died just over 6 years ago. In the last few years of her life she enjoyed writing: Poetry, thoughts, general observations were her main considerations. One of her poems I am submitting below I believe, is a rather poignant one because it shows the courage of a little five year old girl and her devotion to her physically handicapped father. Her father had lost a leg in the First World War and as they were both rushing for shelter to escape the bombs, he would have found it difficult to move quickly:-

Bombs

I am history
5 years 39
Bombs are falling
Father already wounded
From the First World War
I hold his hand
As we rush to
Marylebone Underground Station
For shelter
But the sky is red
With the fires
And my father urges me to run
With the rest of the crowd
I am firm
And my grip tightens
I will not leave him

--------------------

I keep in my mind
That small girl
Clutching the hand
Of a First World War victim
And now I can cry

Margaret Elizabeth Pickersgill
(nee Cullen)

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