Friday, 30 March 2012

Today I thought I would share a poem with you.


My Dad was tall
Me - standing in the hall
Gripping tightly to the "Asylum"
Uniform trousers he wore
Looking up at him in awe.

Playing hide and seek under the hanging coats
All hanging in the hall
Of our finely polished council house.
Searching pockets of your black "Asylum" raincoat
Top coat to the uniform you proudly wore
Looking for sweet rewards
And finding only
Unfiltered tobacco
Filtering through my fingers
Lingering leftovers
of your lately-rolled "Rollies".

Then - sitting on rocking-chaired knee
Riding that old, tired horse to market
Snuggling into your scratchy, unshaved cheek
Breathing deeply
The safety of your smell
And my chubby hands playing with your black,
Brylcreamed-back hair
Now unruly
Sculptured into unicorns
And little devil's horns.

I remember you singing unknown
Never to be known
Polish lullabies
Ready for bedtimes
Beside the kitchen fire.

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