The Khaki Line

by | Sep 22, 2012 | Poetry | 0 comments

As they go, my Dad joins the khaki line
He turns and waves for what was the last time
I had never seen so many young men before
Joining their friends and workmates to go to war

War to me was just a game with toys
No one hurt, No one killed, just us boys
Going home at the end of the day to tea
No trenches, no planes, no going to sea

My Dads letters came every now and then
Read out with joy again and again
Stories of lost mates and weather they tell
Remembering loved ones from his living hell

Blanked out lines we will never get to see
My mother said it was all secrecy
To stop them finding him they say
To keep him safe to come home some day

That day it never arrived for me
My fathers smile, never again too see
A knock on the door, a telegram that’s all
Hugging my family, together we cried in the hall

Never to hear from him the hell he went through
All he said to me was he had a job to do
Last words from my hero I hardly knew
My heart cries still as I tell this tale to you

A white stone has his name on a distant shore
There with his mates just like before
Stood together like the first day in the street
But never their families again to meet


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