A gift, so prized at nine years old,
endorsed with uncle's plea -
to savour it like choc'late gold,
enjoy, but sparingly.
For this was nineteen thirty-nine,
with war clouds looming fast
and sweet delights would soon decline -
her Easter egg must last!
But, undeterred, she glowed with pride,
this treasure was a dream,
with garden scene and doll inside
in 'Mary, Mary' theme.
Amid that dark and rationed war,
temptation shone its light
but, stoic'lly, with grit in store,
she took not one sole bite.
Then, kept as new as decades flew,
this precious, guarded pelf* -
a souvenir in white and blue
still graced her bedroom shelf.
Outliving her with tale to tell,
its message soundly rings:
against the hardship that befell,
her joy in little things.
An auction sale would seal its fate
and, this month, it was sold.
But tasty treat? Maybe too late,
at eighty-five years old!
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