MANY years ago I was serving in the Falklands after being in Port Stanley for two months.
My job had been looking after Colonel H Jones and the 12 brave lads buried at his side.
I loved writing songs and poems. I used to write poetry for the lads and officers to send to their wives.
I wrote a poem for H and the lads and called it heroes. The Star put the poem in the paper and I felt so proud. You had an idea what the lads and families went through.
I have written this poem after someone I knew died through drugs.
Some people call the kids but I feel sorry for them. This is why I wrote kids on the corner.
May be one of them will read it and think.
Kids on the corner
Waiting for their fix
Girls are so desperate
Started turning tricks
Dealer in his new car
Wearing gold everywhere
Feeding kids on the corner
Who have no hope and no care
Drugs from the dealer
Bringing them down
Kids on the corner
All stood around
He hands each one a packet
A shrewd smile on his face
I’ll see you next week
Same time, same place
Kids go out stealing
And begging on the street
Need money for their habit
No food for them to eat
A mother stands on the corner
Where her poor daughter died
So much pain on her face
She cannot hide
Brian Marsden
Haydock
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