TELEGRAM FOR MASTER B
TELEGRAM FOR MASTER B - EPHEMERA
January fourteenth nineteen forty six. Hooray, I’m eight today.
Dad still serves in India, four thousand miles away.
I’d barely recognize him if he walked in through the door.
For he had sailed away from us when I was only four.
A ring at the doorbell, I run to see.
“A telegram for Master B.” Who’d be sending one to me?
I read it, “Happy birthday son,
God bless you and everyone.”
Signed at the bottom, “With love from Dad.”
The best birthday greeting I ever had.
A piece of paper, worth nothing at all.
But it takes pride of place in a frame on the wall.
.
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