When I was four I crossed the road <br />To pick some flowers growing wild <br />In meadows lovely to a child <br />Allowed to roam the birds' abode. <br /> <br />A wandering bomb had hit the home <br />Which once stood calm upon this place <br />Or were there secrets or disgrace <br />That brought that house to dust and loam? <br /> <br />Bees I saw, and shrapnel shells <br />And snails and grasses waving high <br />Above me to the cloudless sky, <br />Breezes and birds and distant bells. <br /> <br />Fearlessly I gathered more, <br />And bore an armful, loving gift <br />Of foxgloves, lupines, daisy drift, <br />And buttercups and farmer's lore. <br /> <br />The daily siren's wailing moan <br />Did not disturb my young delight <br />But suddenly into my sight <br />Sat at my feet a whitened bone. <br /> <br />I stared and thought and bent to see <br />When something moved away in fear: <br />A hedgehog braving the All-Clear <br />Was startled at the smell of me <br /> <br />And showed courageously his spines - <br />I shrieked and dropped my great bouquet, <br />Forgot my gift, my country play, <br />'A hedgehog! ' I left enemy lines <br /> <br />And ran awoken from my field <br />Out of the summer's flowery charms, <br />Across the road to welcome arms <br />Where laughter cast a shameful shield.<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memories-of-war/
