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