Old postcards
from more than
a century ago
tell the stories
of a happy group
of friends, now all
long dead, their
outings, and plays,
and sport, and loves,
and losses, all gone.
Their innocence
went first though,
this last generation
not to know what
a world war would
bring to their happy lives.
I feel like warning them –
“Hey, watch out, bad
times are coming, and
some of you will die
and others weep,
make the most
of your last sunny days.
But they cannot hear
and their ghosts
are fading like
the ink on the card.
nomdeplume 