Landing in Sicily

His folks saw him off on the train,

their eldest son,

with ten dollars in his pocket.

It was all they could manage.

He worked his way to England and joined the RAF,

once was honoured to hold the Canadian flag 

during a presentation 

to the Queen.

My Grandma's handwriting 

on the back of the photo informs

"LaVergne in France".

He wrote the family a letter, 

in late summer,

about landing in Sicily.

"We walked through the vineyards

in the afternoon sun,

picking grapes as we passed.

Dusty, but that can be washed off........."

He had a sensitive, honourable soul.

He never spoke of the war,

but his eyes hinted at memories ~

things he wished he had never seen.

He came home to his pretty wife, 

his baby daughter.

They were The Three Bears.

"Ready, Mama Bear?" he'd ask,

with a twinkle in his eye,

when it was time to go.

All Greta had to do was take a cigarette

out of her pack, tap it, 

and he'd swoop, her gallant knight,

across the room to light it

with a flourish.

We all dreamed of finding

a gallant knight like him.

One of the finest of men,

whom life disappointed

towards the end,

he set the standard high for me,

was the blueprint

for my dream man.

To him and to every other soldier,

who emerged from the trenches 

and walked the long hard miles of war,

we say:

We will never forget.

We will always remember.

My uncle, LaVergne Marr

R.I.P.

I long for a time when it is peace we are remembering.