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The Forgotten Man



It starts with just the little things

Such as not remembering a name.

He looked vaguely familiar and smiled

- As I passed him in the street.


He called a cheery greeting

And addressed me by my name.

I smiled back out of courtesy

- And mumbled as we passed.


I knew I ought to know him

But my brain had let me down.

So I've spent the whole time since

In wondering who he was.




Bulbarrow Hill



I long to stand on Bulbarrow Hill

Once more before I die

And feel the wind upon my face

And blowing through my hair.


Looking west for forty miles

Across the Blackmore Vale

Or south towards the Dorset Gap

The land spread out below.


A tapestry of fields and woods

Seen from up on high

For sixty years I’ve known this view

And kept it in my mind.


If I don’t go to Bulbarrow

Once more before I die

I know that view will go with me

And help to ease my mind.