To Jimmy 1912-2007. Poem by Terry Collett

I remember the last evening
I saw you and talked, later
after we all left, you died
in the night. That time as

a boy you were cruelly
punished at the school by
the Christian Brothers
and your big brother

complained. In the War
you fought as a sergeant,
and had to train amongst
others the Glasgow gang

boys, who needed a different
strength for this combat
on blood soaked foreign soil.
You spoke and read Latin,

and could have been in
a different age and time
an officer, but you were
from the wrong class.

That evening you said:
I must catch up on my
Shakespeare again, maybe
together you and I. But

we never did. But I have
fond memories of us in
Lourdes, how I helped
save your life, if only for

another year, in God's good
grace, in which we all walk
and have our being at His pace.