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The Women Left

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The Women Left Here is a short poem I wrote a while ago now and it appears on one of my poetry blogs ( Dreaming in Purple and Grey ). Now it is my way of marking this year's special anniversary. I grew up in the 50s and 60s and I heard many stories of women who lost their men in the first World War and how they suffered.  My aunt lost her "young man".  She never spoke of it and she never married.  There was no one to marry; a generation had been lost. But the women who had it hardest were the widows of "other ranks" who were left with children to care for and little or no support. This poem is for them. The Women Left And we the women left Make lives for ourselves. Brave women we, The women left. Like flotsam on a stony shore, We shouldn't be here. Discarded parts! Our seasoned wood Has gone beyond its season. But still we scrub and clean And make our knuckles raw With all your dirty laundry. If not, who'll feed our kids? Br