We played together, you and I, my son,
From early morn till day was done.
What boundless love was ours, what joy, what fun;
Together, you and I, my son.
It seems but only yesterday that I
Bought you an aeroplane to fly.
You were eleven. I still see your eyes
So bright as your craft flew the skies.
You did not flinch when called to do or die,
(So proud was I at your reply);
But took your wings to battle in the sky.
I only wish ‘twere you and I.
I too, must fight, and pray to God that we
May be united when ‘tis done.
I also humbly pray that He make me
As great a man as you, my son.
Written by Bernard D. Cropper, 2nd Lt., R.A., the father of P/O. Douglas Cropper killed whilst flying with 609 Squadron over France on 16th August 1941.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning we will remember
them. - Laurence
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• Last Modified: 26 May 2014, 08:15 •