One Fatherless Poem by Rod Morris

In nineteen thirty-nine when I was only four,
My father joined the army; he went off too fight a war.

I was too young to understand why people had to die;
He was killed just two years later; I was still too young to cry.

In a far off sand-filled desert neath a blazing merciless sun;
He gave his life like others; they also were too young.

I think of him quite often though his face I cannot see.
I hope somewhere he's happy, and sometimes thinks of me.