My father was strict
that is all I knew of him
for many a year
but time softened his armor
and I caught fleeting glimpses
of a wild, young, smart alex
a wise guy in the thirties
cruised the world on a steamship
from Montreal he sailed
through the atlantic ocean
St. Helena, round the horn
Polinesia, Asia
New Zealand, Australia
then around Cape of Good Hope
and back to Montreal town
Canada mid-depression
he drove from Ontario
to BC's wild coast
it's there he met my mother
and she hated him at first
but his bright, sparkling blue eyes
shock of red hair and sharp wit
soon won her heart completely
but when they were to marry
the world war got in the way
so it was off to England,
then to sunny Sicily
and up through old Italy
one week Yugoslavia
then up through France and Belgium
struggles in the Netherlands
and into the fatherland
thinking his luck had run out
then saved by a rosary
remaining an agnostic
and part of a force that
relieved one of the death camps
and seared by what he saw there
then returning home again
into the arms of his love
i arrived some years later
when his time came and he passed
and i was clearing his things
i noticed a framed picture
that he kept by his bedside
a sepia photograph
of a tiny, barefoot boy
wearing a ragged straw hat
astride a giant clydesdale
sporting a sassy, bright smile
i wish i knew him