大象传媒

I was Ten,when it was then,in 1939,
in ignorance and inocence,
I thought all was fine,
then it came, call up time, including Dads to go to war,
and one of them was mine.

I felt the fear of a child,
the insecure hate,
of Dunkirk that Dad was in,
whilst we were left to wait,
worried and uncertain of his fate.

He came through,
yet not for long,
was he home to stay,
To the middle East,
soon he was on his way,
at home, the anxiety,
the bombings night and day,
when it would be over,
nobody could say.

In 45 it ended, and he returned across the sea,
but the stranger who came home was the dad I couldn't see,
through the eyes of a stranger that was also me,
for time decreed as ever,
Ten I couldn't be.

Forever gone,
the child he loved and knew,
a teenager,
the child years were so few,
and it would never be the same,
though we would wish it to,
for what has happened in the past,
we never can undo.

It is now,
the years have flown,
grandaughters have I two,
one is eight,
and one is ten,
the age when I went through what they, Thank God,
can never know,
the time,
when I was ten,
and it was then in 1939.

This is for Dad from Iris Gunner

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