Soft Falling Memories. Poem by Michael Cochrane

The coming of autumn and the chilled air, I think on the past.
Soft falling memories like leaves in the sweeping wind.
Family occasions of singing and listening to the songs of my parents, and irish grandmother who had the sweetest voice of all. She sang of struggles and the remembrance of the first world war. The Roses of Picardy was her favorite.
It was a moving song that transported the spirit to an age that touched many.
Faded youth of long ago struck down by war.
Michael Cochrane ©️ 2026