Her Mother Wore Combat Boots. . .

Her Mother Wore Combat Boots. . .


The roses aren’t red,
Of course, they once were.
That’s what she tells me;
That’s according to her.

But it’s an old film,
All spliced up and choppy.
It was filmed by her father,
The man she calls Poppy.

Her mother waters a garden,
Now yellowed and faded.
With a big straw-woven hat
Her face is hidden and shaded.

But the detail that tickles,
The one she always points out.
The boots on the woman’s feet
Are what it’s all about.

They were her father’s,
Who died in World War II.
“See didn’t I tell you?”
“She was just like you.”

“Both filled with romantic notions”
“Both filled with sentiment.”
And I watch the movie over
And I wonder what she meant.

The roses aren’t red,
Of course, they once were.
That’s what she tells me;
That’s according to her.