My Writers Circle
The Coffee Shop => The Gallery => Topic started by: Gyppo on August 16, 2017, 11:55:46 PM
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A memory from the very early 60s.
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"Life's a funny old thing, Son."
Dad never spent long in the past,
he had a philosophy of the now,
living the moment.
It served him well.
But sometimes he'd slip away
into the warrior's reverie.
Briefly lost in another time and place,
reliving a distant time.
"You alright, Dad?"
He knelt by his motorbike,
paused in mid repair,
spanner in hand,
eyes turned inward.
A shake of the head,
light returning to his eyes.
"Yes. Just thinking...
If it wasn't for some bloody A-rab
with a damned great log
you wouldn't even be here."
"How's that, Dad?"
"I went to rescue another Matelot,
outside a bar in Port Said.
He was getting the thin end of a fight
with a bunch of A-rabs.
Several of us joined in.
The last thing I saw
was a sea of striped robes
running at us,
and a bloody great log,
coming straight at my head.
"I came around in hospital
at a shore base,
and my ship had sailed.
"The man who took my place died
when a tin-fish came calling,
straight through the stoke-hold."
He shook himself,
like a dog shaking off river water
after a swim.
Came back to the present.
The shutters were down again.
He wiped his oily fingers on a rag
then tousled my curly little head.
"Life's a funny old thing, Son."
Gyppo
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Memories. Some good, some not. Well composed, Gyppo. Thanks for posting.
AQ