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,
waiting,
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.