Poem. War horses. Remembrance.

Thomas and I always mark the Remembrance time, and I think about all the horses that were taken away to War and didn't come back. My beloved horse would have been one of them.

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.