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From Hilda Graham, after the story of My Brother the Poacher:

 
In memory of my late brother Teddy (Edward)
Written August 1997
 
He was my brother
I held him so dear
tho he's been gone
 for many a year.
 
We still kept in touch
through letters and phone
and we always talked
of memories of home.
 
Our childhood was happy
with parents who cared
and the things that we did
the joys we shared.
 
We had little spats
my brother and I
and would you believe
I once blacked his eye.
 
Looking back it was funny to see
for he was older and bigger than me
he would always want things his way
but I couldn't let him have it
on that special day.
 
I was rocking in my mother`s chair
He decided he didn`t want me there
so I stayed in the chair and rocked so high
then I jumped out and hit him right in the eye.
 
He was so shocked
I can still see his face
He was the big guy and thought he was boss
 this time he accepted the fact that he lost.
 
We went on the moors
he loved to explore
We`d chase all the rabbits
they were there by the score.
 
One time we found some bunnies alone.
They were so little we took them home.
My mother told us the bunnies would die
away from their mommy, so I started to cry.
 
So my mother and brother
and of course me
went back to the moors
to bunnies where they should be.
 
My mother held them in an apron she wore
but finding their home was a chore
for there were rabbit holes all around.
 We couldn't remember where the bunnies were found.
 
My mother decided we would find them a home
so we left them beside a hole all alone
she assured us that they would be found
for there were lot's of mommy rabbits around.
 
These memories may sound
silly it seems
but they are all part
of my childhood dreams
 
We were always together
my brother and me
and always in mischief
thought up by he.
 
It was perfect
to have loving father and mother
and be watched over close
by my big brother.
 
Now he is gone and
I wont see him again
but the memories of him
I will always retain.
 
(I Love you Teddy)
 
written on this Sunday 09-17-97  by Hilda Graham

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