Buried with mothballs
at the bottom of the chest,
an old blue uniform from the war,
an RAF uniform with two stripes,
Taller than my dad but still a boy,
I’d put it on and dream
of faraway battles and bravery.
In one pocket a packet of letters
from his sweetheart my mum
and his own tiny mother,
words I was never meant to read,
secrets I was never meant to know.
I’d replace the uniform carefully,
mothballs and all.
No one was ever the wiser.
by Paul Beech (Wales), Author
Twin Dakotas (Cestrian Press, 2016)