My Dad

My dad told me a story of forty years before, when he was young and there was a World war, I thought ‘he is old, well; what does he know anyway’?

the petulance of youth never seems to fade, ignorance is everything when you know it all,

Life has been difficult, if only I could hear him once more, to really listen, intent to learn, I would have had less bridges to burn, my father was a hero, a young voluntary fireman, a royal airforce cadet, saving Saturdays for a little shilling bet, Harold, Red & Pat, a short tempered rat with a heart of gold, a maniac cat he owned, it would always attack, confused and alone now though surrounded by friends, most times I think my life would end, I’ve no more to give, burned to the ground, to rest a buzzing mind from an abnormal sound, no, stay quiet, not be found.