That day was bathed in sunshine, and mellow fruitfulness.
Light upon green meadows, in emerald loveliness.
But those of us who did survive, will remember that noon-day hour,
As the second air-raid warning, sounded from the tower.
Like a flash of summer lightning, planes bore down on us, from the blue,
I remember each and everyone of us, in shelter 622.
Noise and smell of sulphur, hell descending from the skies.
We prayed and sat there, trembling, our shelter cracked from side to side.
So, today at St Peters, Filton, the service so well portrayed.
Hymns so aptly chosen, and words of comfort said.
My heart was full, to bursting, so proud was I to be,
among those who paid a tribute, of that 'tragic' memory.
So to those who are left, be thankful, not knowing what the
future will hold
But I'm sure we all have 'special' memories,
And it's we who are left, now grow old.
Written by Mary Rose Dury (née Dyer)
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning we will remember
them. - Laurence
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• Last Modified: 05 July 2015, 19:51 •