MY father was 70 this year and whilst looking back in old photos and items for his birthday he went through a poem he wrote back in 1972 which when I read it thought how fitting it was for this coming weekend.
Gone off to war will I see him no more.
Does he know the reasons he's fighting for.
To stand in between a man and his dream, to die for something there's no meaning for.
Someone’s took a gun and shot down my son, there he lays oh so young, looks in amaze at this war torn place, sighs and says god what have they done.
Wouldn’t it be nice to open up my eyes one morning and see you my son, to know you've come home and left them all alone to fight a war in which you don't belong.
By JM Scott, of Maltby, 1972