Old Man, Father, and You

I peel back your mask of wrinkled misfortune
Scanning your frailness, as though it were contagious.
I had so much to say, so much to throw at you,
Yet here you sit, crumpled like a discarded jumper
Silently murmuring to yourself
Unaware that an absence has returned.

I wanted to hit you with my life, how I had made it:
The wonderful wife, the perfect child,
The fulfilling job, the new car., fuck, even the semi
Rented bungalow four miles from the sea.

Words formed then were swallowed like glass,
Dried spittle glistened on cracked lips, misty eyes
Scanned white walls in startled confusion.
In your vulnerable incapacitated state
I saw moments of happiness. Before
The drink, and whores, lying and leaving
As a mother might discover the essence of love
In the sleeping sigh of her newborn
I see a once innocence in your struggled for breaths.

Father

Skimming stones into a dirty English sea
Being my dad, you’d always allow me
To win by a skim or two.
For you was the Atlas of my world
And I adored you.
Standing by the by-line hands buried
Deep inside your jeans, breathing
Deep the crisp February air
There you stood watching, waiting
For that second when leather and
Left foot met, to cheer, to challenge
Those whose faith fared elsewhere.

Out walking not much was said
Yet such silence reassured me,
Words mere fodder when settled in your presence
Every so often you squeeze my hand
A secret gesture of love.
A love for you father,
Superman, painkiller, joker, magician
Gather of tears, keeper of promises
The master, and then the slave.


3. You

Apart from the murmuring we sit in silence
I have no hate to give, the error of age robs even this.
On a piss stained seat sits a crumpled you.
You gaze at a splintered window,
Lost somewhere between then and now.
Your cardigan mocks your slender frame
I reshape it around your shoulders,
Kissing you gently I dissolve you from thought
Crying only when the road opens up and swallows me whole.