It reminds me of a story of my Grandfather, who fought in the Great War. I never knew him, but the story comes to me from my Mother. Here's my poem, with a photo of my very young Grandfather in his military uniform beneath it.
All Over by Christmas
My Great
Grandfather withstood arguments and pleading,
weathered his
son’s anger, saying
“You’re not
taking him,
He’s mine,
not yours,
He’s staying
here,
He can go out
to grass until you return”
All through
cavalry training,
through
drill, preparation, anticipation,
My young
Grandfather held his annoyance
at the old
man’s meanness
until
finally,
in action,
he realised
his father’s compassion.
Oh gosh, that is moving, what a precious, heartbreaking story to be handed down.
ReplyDeleteI think about my Grandfather often when I am out and about with Thomas. I am the only member of the family who is 'horsey' so I feel a very direct and special link to him.
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