The Killer Blow

I am a strict man
That is how I am.
As I was a father to my son
I wanted the best for him
It is easily done
I did not praise him
I always expected more.
Good he was but never
Quite good enough for me
A mortar shell
A shrapnel wound
The blood run
By his sister
Amongst the falling bombs
The risk all in vain
In the morning he was gone

My son has died
the grief the loss.
How could you know
The half of it?

I stopped my work
In the factory
And opened a shop
And each day my friends
Came in and talked
They talked of my son
The kind young man they knew
They knew unlike me
I was strict with him
With them he was free to be
They saw I side I never saw
They saw a side
I will now never see
His fun and joy for life
Taken from me
By the person I am.

My son has died
the grief the loss.
How could you know
The half of it?