My pain has stopped for I am dead.
My time on earth is done.
But in a hundred years from now
I’ll still be twenty-one.
My brief sweet life is over,
My eyes no longer see,
No summer walks, no Christmas trees,
No pretty girls for me.
I’ve got the chop, I’ve had it ,
My daily flights are done.
Yet in a hundred years from now,
I’ll still be twenty-one.
Submitted by Joe Evans, (nearly 93) to Burton Latimer Magazine after he recently discovered the poem to commemorate D Day