Tuesday Poem: “For A Song” By Barbara Strang

For a Song

To my father



After it ended

the war was still on

around our house

in the thin-lipped silences

and grown-ups dressed in uniform colours,

navy, khaki, brown.

My father had been there,

didn’t talk about it

we children rifled

through fat albums

on the bottom shelf

snaps of trucks and desert sand,

young men in lemon squeezers,

hearty blokes who still came round.

My father had been there,

didn’t talk about it

he withdrew fat volumes

of war histories from the library

to find what it was about.

……………..~

My fath...