Farewell My Son

I waved to you my son
My chef's whites gleaming as proudly as my smile
I nudged my apprentice "That's my boy"
And as we watched you across the water
My heart was filled with joy.

At ships rail and on shore we did wave
We weren't to know that sunny day
That within the cycle of the sun
Our war would start and end
And one of us would have a sailor's grave.

The great liner sailed on
On shore the mighty shipyards thundered
453 growing daily with honest toil
Rivets flying, hammers ringing, little knowing
For one of us the war would soon be done.

And on the liner, ladies danced sequinned gowned
Men black as hell fed hungry fires
Diamonds of sweat their only adornment
A gong calling passengers to dinner
Soon all would be drowned.

Death stalked round Eire's shore
Silent streak towards the mighty hull
Ripping into her side, tearing at her life
Explosive sound, screams of trapped and dying
Stench of burning flesh. She is no more.

Still the shipyards thunder on
453 a silent shadow now waiting in the wings
The unborn ghost of Liners yet to come
Waiting till men may safely sail round Erie's shore
She will not go where I have gone
Farewell my son
......    ....    ....


My father and his apprentice stood at the edge of the Clyde and waved farewell to his apprentices father who was a cook on the Athena (think I've remembered the name) that was the last time the boy ever saw his father.

Megan L