Everyone remembers the button eyes;
no one remembers who she was.
Marching for War Stamps, supporting
the troops in the fight against fascism —
no one remembers she was the American Way.
That’s all gone now … the optimism dead.
She was loved —
not because she was beautiful —
because she was smart and shrewd,
insightful, loyal, brave, kind.
She inspired men. She had sand;
she knew what was what and
though she didn’t kill anybody,
she knew it was war and didn’t
bat an eye when the Asp did the wet work.
Brave enough to know when to be scared;
scared enough to know when to be brave —
showed us all — in the end it’s timing
that counts. A cliffhanger everyday.
Then there was Sunday — full colour.
America’s favourite red head.
No punches pulled — Show time!
Live or die kid — you’re on your own.
© Ward Maxwell
Peterborough Poets 