Remembering

I used to say that

When I grow up,

I want to be like dad

Just thinking about him

Tears rise in my eyes

I can still hear it

Dad’s pantomime laugh

Bouncing of the kitchen walls

My mother

A riot of plates and cutlery

Throwing his dinner on the table

Him griping about work or whatever

Some memories remain so fresh

We where a happy family

My farther refused to say

Anything that my hurt his wife

He liked to create a big fuss

Over her

And he’d talk so enthusiastically

To her

Dad was quick to raise his hand

Whenever mum asked for help

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