For my late father

Some talk of Alexander

In days of yore
When I was four
On Morecambe shore,
My father,
Stained in Dunkirk blood
Became Robin Hood,
He stepped fore
On two legs,
Volunteered to try his hand
At a game on the bandstand,
Used his one good limb
To drop some pegs
Into a jam jar,
While mother shouted, 'Come on, Jim'.

I saw from afar
He'd won me a car,
What a star.

Chris Fernie, 2009

Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 421 times
Written on 2009-06-07 at 21:10

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Rob Graber
Sounds like a treasured memory. What a star, indeed...