World War Two Poems

Hush, hush, hush - there’s a step upon the stair

And if I close my eyes, I seem to feel somebody there

His face is clear, remembered, as the sun shines thro’ a cloud

If only I could get to him - I hate this stupid crowd!

Their silly faces hem me in - they laugh and dance and shout

The phonograph is loud and shrill

I’m trapped and can’t get out.

And all the time I know my love is waiting on the stair

So still so quiet and beautiful. With moonlight on his hair

He calls to me, he breathes my name he whispers secretly

He speaks of love, and happy things, and deaths dark mystery.

He often comes like this - yet when I seek him he’s not there.

There’s nothing but a shaft of moonlight

Gleaming on the stair.

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