Wednesday, 10 February 2016
Monday, 1 February 2016
One of the poems for Dad whose birthday would have been this month.
When the Daughter returned
From the meeting with the Registrar,
Stone in heart, unbelieving –
The man did not know her father,
Hell bent on putting
The hateful year behind him –
When she returned,
Smile mask in position,
He fixed her with his one good eye and said,
I thought I’d at least make it to the Spring!
Mortified, she lied,
No one said you wouldn’t, Dad.
But the Registrar had said
Dead by Christmas.
In a corner of the front garden,
Always his domain,
The Mother had no interest in that lawless patch
Flanking car and step,
There now began a pushing and swelling
Beneath the frozen earth,
Driving juice green flow against the clock.
Three daffodils burst through the January snow,
Loyal against all odds,
Sounding the trumpet for Dennis
Who put the old behind him
Against all odds
In a miracle of Spring.