I didn't cry. You wonder why. Sanatorium was mother's home, To gran's in Durham, I had gone. And dad was left - alone. I was only nine. I didn't cry. Sirens wailed - enemy sighted Endless falling bombs Shattering homes every day. Some of the reasons I was sent away. I didn't cry. On Christmas morn, Above a warming range, China dogs and chiming clock, A woollen, bulging stocking hung. Could this, I wondered be for me. Gran stood by, gave a nod and smile. AND I CRIED.