Past Dreams... A little lad sat on his own, thinking of past dreams, A football lay by his side, falling apart at its seams, The final score had just come in, the result was 3 - 2, His football mates had lost again but that was nothing new. Winning didnt mean that much to this lonely, little lad, What bothered him most was the absence of his dad, There were eleven kids and ten dads at almost every game, And everyone knew why his dad wasnt there but still it wasnt the same. His dad was a Royal Marine, a thing they call a Booty, Hed been in wars and such and often was away on duty, But then one day his dad came home without his usual pride, And told his Mum they had to talk, his draft had just arrived. He heard his dad speak of things he didnt understand, Like duty, family and brotherhood and whats expected of a man, His Mum sat there quiet, her face it showed her fear, He knew that she had heard some words she didnt want to hear. And then his dad hugged him up just like any other day, And said You know I love you son, but Ive got to go away, You know that Im a Royal Marine and you know what we must do, We board the ships and fight the wars for loved ones just like you. To the little lad it seemed like that had been a long, long time ago, And this little boy really needs a dad around to help him as he grows, To hold the bike when he learns to ride and to tie his new school shoes, But most of all he needs a dad to fill his life whenever he feels blue. His mother read him letters that his dad used to write, With weird new words hed never heard that filled his mind with fright, His dad spoke of all the men who helped him fight the war, And how his brothers the day before had won the fight so far. His letters spoke of courage and a brand new brotherhood, Forged of Royal Marines fighting for the common good, And he praised the brave young heroes, wearing berets of green so true, And he said we keep the peace and fight the wars for loved ones just like you. Everyday the young boy waited for the postman to come by, For he loved his dads letters but they made his mother cry, Just how long, the young boy wondered, would his mother have to wait, For his dad to come walking down the drive and through the garden gate. As the young boy ate his ice cream and his mother cleaned the floor, There appeared a Naval padre knocking softly on the door, We regret to inform you Maam was the way the speech began, Then the mother grabbed her little boy and out the house she ran. Cuddled tightly to his mother, the young boy began to cry, At his mothers mournful comments Please no, and why Oh Why?, Even at this young age, he knew his dad was gone, And that he and his mother would now be all alone. A little lad sat on his own, living his past dreams, A football lay at his side, falling apart at its seams, He wiped away the tears of sadness just as the coffin passed by, And said Dad, I dont want to be a Royal Marine. It makes my mother cry. Dave Lilburn
Posted on: Tue, 13 Jan 2015 12:27:39 +0000
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