Prisoner Of War

Today at my grandparents an old prisoner of war log book was found belonging to my grandads sisters hudband dating back to 1944. It was truely amazing to look at. One section however blew my mind completely. A poem. And this is what it read:

Tonight it seems I cannot find, tranquility, or peace of mind.
However much I concentrate, for mundane things of present state.
My thoughts are wayward, flitting wide, to haunts upon the other side. Where once I lived so gay and free, there waits the girl who is for me. T'is but a phase, a pensive mood, caused by enforced solitude.
A dream I cannot always keep, but there is time enough, for sleep.
T'is no thought of moody madness, but my hope of future gladness.
Her words live in my memory yet, as through the years I'll n'er forget. She's ok! So dear to me, and wonders now just where I be.
She has a heart so sweet and true, and waits or prays with thoughts anew.
Oh! Why must I a prisoner be, her lovely face each hour I see.
That loving mile will surely hail, a future, like a fairy tale.
So clear I see her that I know, within the firelights gentle glow.
A whispered prayer that is for me; oh! Why must I, a prisoner be.
No single day is here complete, my love is as my heart does beat.
But patience dear, we both must bide, until the day I sail with the tide. Through the tempest of there years, thro' the trial and the tears.
I shall return to you once more, my Dream Girl and my England's shore. That island far across the sea, in thoughts of you, it's dear to me. Today I dream so far away, till on, Return-Our Happiest Day.


P.O.W.
31/7/44.
STALACE 357. (THORN).
Poland