Father, a poem.

Short sighted generations linked with insight and determination

Horn rimmed glasses, ends chewed, optical signs of inner tension

Reserved people, private thoughts not betrayed by exterior facets

Hand wringing gestures, churning stomachs, maintained cool exteriors

“Less said the soonest mended”, male line word-smith’s founder’s charter

Knowledge stores over lifetimes accumulated, learned at fountain-head

Schooled not to foolishly squander or spendthrift wasted

As fine brandy and cigars, words chosen for pleasures own sake and delectation...

Natty dressers with an established, confident sense of their own fashion

Dapper, Coiffured, grooming, well turned out ensembles

Tanned Churchill brogues, hand-crafted, traditionally constructed

Harris Tweeds and Cavalry Twill s, styles of bygone days yet never outdated.

Goireann beirt bothair, two shorten the road, as Rafferty an bfuile once advised.

Male bonding, melded togetherness, sharing principals, customs and trusted traditions.

Terrible night digging out the travelling shop from deep piled ditch winter snow.

Shared well earned smokes afterwards, who else will know? Sure you won’t squeal on me, Dad.

Passionate for model railways, an apprentice engineer, Oh what hours of joy we once shared.

Growing up, remembering the first day you allowed me to be Driver, I knew then you cared.

Special shared times and place, door sign declaring: “Danger Men at Work”, sacrosanct.

Sanity breaks briefly from life’s turmoil’s, on the Mitch, away from wife, mother and toil.

Horror the day I stumbled on your drunken heap, stinking of booze, a sneaky dirty rotten skunk.

“Oh why did you feel the need for it?” You were loved, admired, but to low opinion now sunk.

Explanation not forthcoming, no effort to mend your ways, a gap, and then a chasm engulfed us.

Admirably, supremely valiant, with our backing, you kicked the habit, wounds healing in time...

I picked up an old Joe Dolan record today, your favourite and thought how “Make Me an Island”, reflected your love of privacy but lyrically showing how love can influence and make us evolve:

“But I’m changed, rearranged, I’m enlightened and how,

You have taught me, you have caught me and I’m different now.”

Sadly departed, gone with all traces of your secret dreams, longings and unrealized desires.

Fruitless searching for your mythical journal that could have revealed and inspired so much.

Written words leaping off pages, thoughts breaking free, liberated unspoken private imaginings.

Learning, caring, breaking taboos, strictures, freedom of expression, true to self once in our lives...