Family - My Grandfather, The Blacksmith Poem by Paul Warren

My grandfather was a blacksmith
All those years ago in a previous time rift
He toiled in a shop on Grand Junction road
When horses and wagons were the transport mode

He moulded the metal daily with heat and hammering
As in the blacksmith shop he didn't stop working
But the Depression of the 1930's meant it changed
And his working life as the blacksmith was rearranged

It meant that this lighter industry was at an its final end
For men like my grandfather their life they could not defend
So they took what this meant to them in their changing world
An another part of the old time Australia was felled.

© Paul Warren Poetry