Bridget Dunne Leicester, Leics

I was born the ninth child in a family of eleven in Southern Ireland in the 1920's. My mother was a midwife and my father was a craftsman thatcher who could only work when the weather was fine, We were devout Roman Catholics, very poor because mother was rarely paid in money for her hard work, more often, it was a bag of flour or a chicken. At the age of thirteen, I won a scholarship to the private convent school where I was educated for four years. At the age of seventeen I cam to a French convent school in Kent, The war was raging and I was scared all the time..Following a severe illness in 1940. I entered a nursing school in London and graduated in 1946. I have honour's in general, Fever's Midwifery and Health visiting which I practised for twenty five years, during which time I married and have two grown up children, I have been a widow for the past fifteen years.

Dialogue To A Snowdrop Dear little flower the earliest, Of all the flower's that are Peeping above the bare brown earth, And on the cloud a star. How can one fail to love thee And praise thee more and more, You are the first small That Wintertide is o'er.

Dedication To Rose It is just two years ago today, Since my sister Rose went away I shall never forget the day I heard, That she flew into the starry skies, She was my sister and dearest friend Where I could always come and stay In her lovely bungalow, Where she tended me night and day. I also know shed did not go alone She was accompanied by our Savior Who gently guided her all the way To Heaven and her eternal home. Rest in peace dear Rosey, Now you are free from pain No more grief or sorrow Because Heaven is your domain Often in my dreams I see you still You are smiling like you were, But you never speak or touch me anymore, Like you need to do in days of Yore.

Poetic Thoughts If I walk through the woods in early morning And a spider's web I see Rather than break it I would I would detour and leave it free. If I saw vixen fox with its Young feeding, timorously! I would retreat hastily. If I perceived a swooping osprey Devouring a struggle fish I would mind my own business And attend to my swaying ketch. These things with my poetic thoughts Occupy much!

All poems Copyright © 1997 Bridget Dunne. All rights reserved.