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Erics Poems

E

Eric Hill - HLHS

Guest
Dear Elaine (love letters)



From that first day when I met you, I knew that you would be

The girl I’d love forever, until eternity

I asked you out and you said “yes” my heart was full of pride

Years later you said, “yes” again, you agreed to be my Bride



We married at St Andrews, in July of seventy-three

I left my home at Bromford, and joined your family

After six months we got lucky, we’d saved, bought this and that

We got ourselves our first home, in a Chelmsley high rise flat



We tried for children straight away, but it was not to be

It took four years of heartache, until Sarah made us three

Young Eric came in seventy-nine, our family now was four

We was so proud and happy, we could ask for nothing more



Now thirty years have past us, our kids will soon move on

But we will still be Lovers, still together, still as one







Our Wench


Our Wench has had a Babby; she’s named her little Chloe

Our Chloe weighed in at eight pound one, on April the eighth you know



She’s me first and only Grandchild, the apple of me eye

I’ve told our Wench ter get cracking

This time I want a Boy!







Why Dad Why

Where does the sun go at night-time

My son once asked of me

And where does the moon go in day-time

He asked so seriously



I struggled to find an answer

That he could understand

Like how the earth keeps spinning

And how the planets travel around



But suddenly I looked down

At blue eyes and blond curled head

I could only give one answer

I said son they go to bed






Our Dad and Me

We used to sneak off fishing, my old Dad and me

To anywhere there was water, that was where we’d be

Ward End Park or Edgebaston, the Severn at Holt-Fleet

Alrewas on the River Trent, or Claines where the rivers meet



The Fazeley cut up Tyburn road, or Lapworth Pounds we’d go

Not only in the summer, We’ve been in sleet and snow

We’d be away from home for hours, catch the early morning Bus

Then sit down and start fishing, just the two of us



We’d take cold bacon sarnies, a great big flask of Tea

Half a loaf of buttered toast, and a bag of Crisps (for me)

Our Dads passed on now (bless him), he’s just a memory

But if he come back tomorrow

I know just where he’d be
 
Your poems show that your family life is so warm and loving, Eric.
 
You have the feel for rhym and rhythm and wamth with your message Beryl M
 
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