Our Fathers? Poem by Sean Tyacke

I have seen your face in an old picture frame.
Were you in parades?
Did they make speeches in your name?
Did you know glory?
Did you find fame?
Were you in the war with John Wayne?

In your picture you look so very young.
Were you really old enough to carry that gun?
Were you a fighter pilot chasing the Hun?
Or was it the Nazi’s you kept on the run?
Was the war like the films?
- My! it must have been fun.
A pity you died, your life just begun.

My grandma keeps your picture in a box of letters and private things,
Along with a garter, a medal and some embroidered wings.
You never grow older, always the same
Your face still young in an old picture frame.

© Sean R Tyacke,1987