[e11even]

He helped me clasp my cardigan's deep blue buttons.
My charcoal gray slacks were always how he told me to cuff them.
He was my hero before he was one. I'd stand right next to him.
I did my collar as he did his. This was a vex to him.
"Son why aren't you sleep?" He would ask me.
"Because I wouldn't dare miss sending off my dear daddy!"
The grin on his face lit up the room for that moment.

His son would shoot straight up to the moon just to show him
How proud he was. Olive drab drenched his dad's uniform.
If only he knew to inform his son so he knew him more.
But he never really spoke. His son spent five years awaiting his return.
The boy had grown to a teen; a longing inside me deeply burned.

How does he do it? How does he leave silently? I never knew.
I just remember running after him, that morning still brand new.
That long line of lonely men. Their mums and daughers, pops and sons.
All fighting the same war, Will I live to see them, what will I become?

We all lost parts of ourselves that day. My name became a symbol.
Whitey Bernard- the white-haired sensation on posters and news ribbon.
For ages they ran campaigns to raise money with my image.
Eventually it was bigger than the war itself. The whole world saw the visage.

When Dad returned, he was even more silent still.
Was it me? I tried desperately to join the divide I feel.
I would follow him to town events and mock his mannerisms.
Watch him fight introversion to greet those that paid troops a visit.
He was a gentle giant of a dwarf conversation...
It was like screaming, "Wait for me, daddy!" while he'd not stop or say things.
The phantasm of our household, only rousing the house in his sleep...
Nightmares of trenches, dead comrades... the plight of global police.
It's not that our lives were bad. He provided and we recieved.
I grew into a fine man by Mum's account, but by my dad's decree?
Maybe in my old age I reflect too much. My wife wise cracks about it.
"You'd have stress getting your dad to talk, you'd have an aneurysm without him..."
I'll never be able to help it though. I passed lessons to mine about hardships.
No matter where your troubles have been, home is where the heart is.