My Inheritance

From the depths of their wardrobe, I pull out a box, Dark brown and dusty, with two rusted locks, No need for a key, just one push and they spring. I raise the lid slowly – and how my heart sings!

Here, nestling gently in red velvet’s fold,

I find letters they penned at just twenty years old, When forced far apart by the enemy fire –

The soldier in France, far from his heart’s desire.

‘Midst the loud blast of bombs and the crackle of flames, Two sweethearts in love, breathing each other’s names, Refused to surrender, succumb to their fears –

And their plans for their future now bring me to tears.

Each word shows their courage. I whisper a prayer From deep in my heart, thanking God for his care. This is my inheritance, love of pure gold,

Nestling here gently in red velvet’s fold.

Marian Cleworth.