by Nick Gisburne
No talking, not to strangers, Daddy said.
He never told me why, but I could see
That when he put the helmet on my head
He only had the best in mind for me.
The body armour, heavy, always hurt,
But I was never anything but brave.
I longed to wear a sweater, or a skirt.
He told me there were things I should not crave.
How sudden was that final, fatal cough,
The moment when my dear old Daddy fell.
In panic, as I pulled the armour off,
I wondered why the sky began to smell.
I cried for help, but that was when I learned,
As those around me, silent strangers, burned.
