My Father
Posted to Poetry
by ClearMirror3 on 2002-02-03 11:50:00
Mild mannered gentle
Patient understanding
Loving, caring, DEAD.
Eagerly awaiting
the sound of the
approaching bicycle
It's here. He's here.
Bicycle clips caress
His trousers.
Climbing on the bar
the speed of the wind
bring us closer.
Lying in bed
the sound of the door
closes. He approaches
armed with comics
lightening my mood
turning the dial
he finds the channel
like only he could.
Stories of the sea.
Tots of rum.
Long walks
raspberry toffee
Him and me.