The Hands of my Father
Sun spread in greeting
Knotted fingers curving
To swoop and to grasp
I raise my arms and hold my breath in
delighted anticipation
of the stench of tobacco
and the sweet smell of
Guinness on breath
The view from snug perch of his elbow
Holding the skin on his neck
The rough dry lipped kisses
to my chin eyes and nose
The deep rumbling laughter
from his chest enters mine
and up I rise
to wakefulness
as the alarm alarms me
dream fades
morning marches in
things to do
line up in my mind
things to say
join people to see
and places to be
and rush to join the cue
So
Glum
I wash, brush, dress
Grab my keys
speed trough the tunnel
through the long parentles day
Until the hands of my Father
Reach out to grasp again
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