Ted Remembers Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield

I don't remember 1917;
That was the year I was born.
I don't remember my father either,
Who had all the fun in France.
I remember my mother seldom smiled again
And her face like a doll's
On the same day every year.
I refuse to picture her face
As one of Hitler's little helpers
Brought the house down.
Of course I remember the dancing soon after,
And the grateful signorinas living for today,
With aprons-full of shrapnel from tomorrow
That exploded, massive and silent.
I remember every day of 37 years building carriages,
And the flighty, flirty lady who insisted
On sharing my life.
I remember our special church,
And the colourful people laughing,
Then all too quickly back in our special church,
Colourless.
I miss Nellie.
And I miss the children we never had,
If that makes sense.
Maybe next time.
I remember all the tools I've held,
All the lawns I've mown and seeds I've sown,
All the hands I've shaken, things I've eaten,
Ties I've tied, shoes I've polished,
And the songs I've sung.
I remember friends I've made, tears I've shed,
Summers, snows, fine smooth roads and bumpy rides.
And I remember
My Nellie will be here at six.