They sat holding hands on that old wood slat bench
Waiting for the train
She in her flower decorated straw bonnet
He in unformiliar stiff black boots
And itchy khaki suit
Shy as young lovers are they sat holding hands
A seventeen year old innocent country girl
An equally innocent nineteen years old country boy
The train pulled in and with one last chaste kiss they parted

*

Every year for the last seventy years
She has laid flowers by the memorial on the edge
Of the village Green
She has no grave to visit
No sacred place to call her own
For her first loves name is but one of many
Carved on that village memorial stone