Missing Fathers

My brother called to run by me Some thoughts about our dad, To see if mine would sync with Certain memories he had. He focused on a conversation When, with lots to drink, Our dad talked war, a topic From which he’d most often shrink. My recollection wasn’t clear, Although it rang a bell But my bro remembered details That my father’d rarely tell: Being trapped inside a foxhole When a sudden sneak attack Spared my dad but all his fellow troops Would not be coming back. The remainder of today I spent With spouse and kids and grands For a Fathers’ Day that every lucky Parent understands. But inside my head I thought about My father and the war And I wished he had lived long enough To want to tell me more.