Textile Artist & Curator

But the war went on and he had to stay, 
And all I could do was wait and pray. 
His letters told me of the awful fight, 
(I can see it still my dreams at night), 
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire, 
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire. 

“Till at last, at last, the war was won – 
And that’s why we wear a forget-me-not, son.” 

(A Mother remembers = Author Unknown)