You were straight out of central casting:
stiff upper lip, a ramrod down
your spine (or up your ...). On day one
you glowered and told us not to blubber.
You taught me to conceal my feelings,
to keep my thoughts deep underground;
never to tell, never to shun
a challenge, that a ‘man’ must master
fear. Not to expect happiness,
or to be understood, or loved. Not to
waste time wondering what it’s all for...
Would you have seen it as success
to hear us whispering in the pew -
‘they don’t make them like that anymore’?
If you have any comments on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be pleased
to hear from you.