June's WW2 Poem on the BBC

We were delighted to see June, who wrote about her experiences of WW2 when she was just 7, sharing her moving poem on BBC 1 show Homefront Heroes last week!

If you missed it then you can read her poem below...

'Childhood Memories of the Blitz - The Durning Road Disaster'

29 November 1940

One night while tucked up in my bed, I heard my mouther shout,

"put your shoes and coat on, we can't stay here tonight".

The sirens screeching, planes overhead, still dark and cold outside,

we ran along Durning Rd, to the safety the college might provide.

We went into a nice warm room, the boiler room they said,

and quickly we got comfy, like being snug in bed.

But once my mother said "come we have to go",

we'd taken some regulars places, so she really couldn't say no.

Further down the basement, only a small place we could find,

underneath some sinks we laid, no one seemed to mind.

I slept. BANG!

Then the noise was really awful, banging and screaming I could hear,

then darkness, so black I couldn't see, the taste of soot was hard to bare.

Did I shout or did I cry, I really couldn't say,

but a hand came out the darkness and said "come, this is the way".

It felt like rubble underfoot, a lumpy softness too,

the strong hand kept me upright, I wish I could see who.

Then I was held so tightly and lifted up quite high,

then more hands lifting higher still, then I saw the sky,

"who does this child belong to?", I heard a mans voice shout,

my mother came from somewhere and helped to get me out.

We went across to Clint Rd School, and sat down on the steps,

there were a lot of people there, some even had their pets.

No one came to talk to us, then we heard the all clear sound,

Mum said "come let's go back home, it's better than this ground".

The house was really in a mess, the windows all blown in,

but Mum said to go to bed and get some sleep, it really is a sin,

that I should have to go to bed with stones still in my hair,

I didn't like that place at all, we shouldn't have gone there.