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Little Blonde Girl

London 2020

The little blonde knew,

before she was four,

that looks were important.


She was lucky, 

so said her mother,

they liked blonde hair.

Her mother was scared

She tensed up, every time

they were near.


Her father wasn’t scared,

he knew no fear.

She twirled her golden locks

as her mother pushed her past 

the two officers.


They weren’t scary.

A charming smile, she knew,

could easily earn a wink or two.

Why did her mum say they were bad?

they seemed quite friendly to her.

But bad they were,

they took her Daddy.

He didn't come home.


She never stopped looking,


for him to come back.

Post war and teen

she felt somewhere unseen

he might, 

he could, 

he must

be alive.

The years rolled past, 

life went on,

she kept looking.


She knew he was dead

too much left unsaid.

A smile 

A kind word 

The kindness of strangers


Looks are important

They get people talking

They bring them together.

The little blonde girl

never gave up,

and finally found her father.

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