Billy Goats Gruff Poem by Margaret Alice

My Dad in a brusque voice said
those ‘bloody fools’ sent me on
a stupid course, I start typing –
head office calls, ‘get that fool
off, he’s messing up the system
using coarse, uncouth diction’

beneath the bravado I could
see a small, helpless man too
weak in the wrists; although he
did very little at a time he had
to work incessantly to get that
little piece done, and I cried…

weak and scared as me inside
facing a terrifying world as a
man who never mastered modern
technology, takes one wrong turn
and is lost, totally confused - no
wonder we felt no security

he had none to give…