Ron Taylor (Son of a FEPOW)
Why am I still lying here?
Beneath a shelter of green
With the sounds of unknown birds above my head,
Although years are many, I recall the promise made
Did my mates forget or did they too perish
After this makeshift cross was placed upon my bed.
Nestled against my body
Lies reminders of my passed,
Slipped from the pocket where they were kept,
Golden memories of a farewell wave,
A new born cradled in her arms,
The greeting hand I have never met.
Lying within a corner a silver Christmas coin like new
From a wedding cake a silver horseshoe,
A fading image of my loved ones slightly torn
From a card, a silver ribbon in a bow,
A rusting key to keep my treasures safe
In this unknown ground in which they were sown.
Am I forgotten ?
Did I die in vain ?
How many mates have made this soil their bed ?
Will we lie together, someday to meet again ?
Sharing a pint, a fag, a joke of times long past ?
Please why am I still lying here ?
I receive many emails about Unknown Graves, this was written in frustration for the many families who do not have a grave to lay flowers