Floating through the house
quiet as a mouse,
he knew where mum would be
in the kitchen, just had to see.

Hands all in flour,
he didn't have the power
to kiss her as he wanted.
Just watched, daunted.

Dad came in, mail in hand
not waving it about,
as he stood
alone.

Looked at his wife,
pain no passion -
she knew then,
face was ashen.

Mail was not what she wanted to see,
it fell to the ground,nothing said,
message was,
'Your son is dead -
killed in action.'

He wanted to scream,
wanted to shout
"I am here,
turn about"

Kissed them both,
each touched their cheek.
They knew and smiled;
their son had been.

He said goodbye.
R.I.P.