The man I never really knew I was too small to really realise when you and mum parted At the age you split up my conscious life had just started Though I won’t lie, I remember violent silhouettes that make me cry and all too vivid images of violence
Deep down I knew there was another you and couldn’t forget the visceral love for a dad that I once had. Something told me there was a softer side and what you couldn’t hide was yourself, like a book on shelf, your favourite passion, the pursuit of knowledge and not fashion.
A walking encyclopedia with a red jumper and a terrible temper, you could tell me bout all the shit that you hated, memorised to a tee and of course the machinations bout terrosim n Afghanistan from TV. You’d sigh a long while and tell me not to go, present a million reasons and get mad, well, that’s my dad.
But I really liked on our long walks was to hear you talk and tell me bout the world and its complexities. The dogs ran and we walked, walked and talked and drank coffee at the café for a good while, one time you even smiled.
When mum passed I thought I’d get to know my lost father a strong man with wrinkles like split plaster and still doing rounds on his bike at 60 odd years. Little did I know that night was our last, you like mum you came and passed and in two weeks I lost my ma and my father.
Sad was your existence when it dawned on me, a decrepit caravan and wet books, I went to get your stuff and realised you had nothing.
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Créditos de la imagen portada: Pixabay, cocoparissienne, https://pixabay.com/photos/caravan-camping-campsite-wild-3132180/
Créditos de la imagen en el texto: Colección del autor
Muy buen poema. Felicidades