nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

THE SAINT CHRISTOPHER

Yours was the hand
That posted the chain
Of the St. Christopher
That never came
Lost in the post
Refunded in full
Merely money
That could never fulfil.

Love when first given
Since faded and died
Memory it lingers
Tears all dried
Thought often returns
Lost in the post
Could mean so much
Never be bought.

Years have fallen
Young soldiers at rest
Of loves bitter war
Which failed the test
The thoughts they twinkle
Like stars in the sky
An old man remembers
Through youths inner eye.