Think of me

When the golden sun
is sinking
And your mind from
care is free
When of others you
you are thinking
Will you sometimes
Think of me

This pin cushion belonged to my Great Grandmother.

It was either sent or carried back from the Front by one of three sons who served their Country in the Great War.

It always seems strangely comforting to hold it knowing that nearly 100 years ago she held it in her hands.

And still we think of them.