A little memoir of a little girl

As I flick open the treasure box,

Flick its lid ajar,

And listen to its tune

I remember my daddy.

I remember death.

I remember his love being blown out like a candle.

As I shut my eyes I can see

I fly over sea and cliff,

Over Mulberry Harbour

And the stormy blue channel,

I end up in a cemetery

With thousands of pure white crosses.

As I walk,

With my feet entangled in the grass,

I try and find my daddy.

Through rows and rows,

Cross by cross,

I search for my daddy

With a ferocious gale blowing in my auburn hair.

I am positive he is here.

As I find the final cross,

In the large mound of marble

I find my father.

My own flesh and blood

Lying right in front of me,

His mangled body

Of the affects of deadly war.

People used to say

That one who lives by the sword

Dies by the sword.

My daddy did just that.

He fought for England

He fought for me

He fought for you.