The cards from Prue,
With pictures from her gallery,
And Pam’s letters,
Rich in scenes from her family.

Roger’s large and erudite hand,
Scrawled across the page,
His loving nature revealed,
For the very first time.

And Leo’s inspiring words,
Giving me the will to survive,
The injustice of this prison cell,
All the way from France.

The Headmaster of the Grammar school,
A page worn at the margins,
In the dark bunk near the ceiling,
By the window over the hospital.

My mother’s screeching,
And shouting from the envelope,
How ungrateful I am,
And such a bloody disgrace.

You all were saved,
Up Grapes Hill,
In the Catholic half,
At the back of the room,
On top of the piano.



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