My Father

October 2022

Me and my father

This pic was taken in Cape Town

My father was a sailor.

Aged sixteen, he joined the Merchant Navy, man and boy.

During World War Two, he was part of the Russian Convoys (The Baltic Run).

I cannot imagine the horrors he must have seen, and he never spoke of the war to me.

I believe he may have been suffering from what is now known as PTSD.

His medals were on the wall, but he never bragged or boasted.

He did not mention them at all.

He liked a wee dram but never raised his voice or fists.

My father was old school, and old school no longer exists.

I wish my father was still here.

I miss him so much.

He often visits with mum.

I see them in my dreams.

I imagine when he doesn’t stop by, he is again sailing the seven seas.

Until we meet again Dad


Published by In the Shadow of my Pen

Indie Poet and Author✍️ of four collections of poetry. Chronic Fatigue Warrior💪 Volunteer, Solo Traveller✈️ and Yogi🙏. Spilling ink from my heart and Soul. My writing is real and raw, so if you are looking for a fairy tale you are on the wrong site!

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