War through a teenagers eyes.

Now so many years later i close my eyes.
I smell the man i lost so long ago,
The paint and thinners he used to wash his hands,(he was a sign writer), the smoke and rich tobacco that always was him,
His hug was soft and strong.

The shirt and pants always smeared with greese and paint, he was always fixing or creating something:-) and he always had time to show us.

And then, that Man was in a starched shirt and smart pants, his jacket was ironed and perfect, the cuffs so smart, and his hug was suddenly not so soft, the cloths were to ruff and formal.

He had to leave us and he suddenly had no time, they took him away and gave him back for such short times.

Then one day, two men dressed just like him came, they looked the same, the cuffs were just as perfect.

They came to say they would not be sending him back,
They took him and his hugs, his smell and they never gave him back.

I still smell him in the air like now, but i miss his hugs.