The Carousel : 2016 Quills nominee

The Carousel

Ink flows strong from this pen I hold,

A carousel of thoughts begins to unfold.

Shiny gold horses move to the sound,

Of fairground music, where dad can be found.

That smell of tobacco, a hint of old spice,

His rattling of change, it's all so nice.

His check woollen coat, a collar of fur,

I remember his clothes, his face a blur.

Those vivid pictures flash through my mind,

Pushing my first bike, him running behind.

Both skipping along holding our nets,

Catching those minnows, I will never forget.

That old blue land rover with rattly doors,

Metal seats with holes in the floor.

The faster he drove, the more it shook,

We had more laughs than a comic book.

The music still plays, our story is told,

Thoughts in my head, his hands so cold.

That smell of toast with early morning tea,

His big warm smile looking down on me.

My old red keyboard with sticks and drums,

Cowboy fringed suit, with two shiny guns.

The music still plays, that rattle of change,

You left us behind, it still feels strange.

Sneaking flowers from the neighbours lawn,

To say I'm sorry for waking at dawn.

That dapple-grey pony you led to school,

Then Billie the ferret broke all the rules.

Now times running out, on this carousel ride,

When thoughts of my dad start to subside.

I open my arms to kiss you goodbye,

Slide down off this horse with teary eyes.

My tribute to dad who died Christmas eve,

When I was eleven, so hard to believe.

The smell of tobacco, that rattle of change,

38 years ago, and still feels strange.

Marmalade Hill  (E) My Spirit and I #2103265 by Lady Elf