Tuesday 14th June

Whilst clearing through some papers and old photographs, I came across a poem that you had written at Primary School.
You were ten years old in 1995 and were looking at pollution and creative writing.
An insightful and astute mind at work.

“The Dying River

I ran to the river.
I used to play there.
Sparkling river.
Like jewels in the sun.
Birds and fish were happy and healthy.
Blue, fresh and clean.
Then came the factory.
Pumping filth.
Poisons and chemicals.
Killing the fish.
Suffocating them.
The birds have left.
The rats have come.
Green, scummy and smelly.”

I wish you were still here; reading, writing, speaking and enjoying the written and spoken word.

I love you so much sweetheart.
Beloved Angel son.

xxxxxx