For Dad

Sometimes
I miss
Summer mornings with my dad.

Early, early mornings.
The six o’clock sun
Was the runner-up.

He would wake me
With the creak of my bedroom door
And I would emerge reluctantly
To cool bathroom tiles
And bathroom air sharp with the remnants of shaving cream.

We would go together
Out into the humid dawn.
His towel,
Hard from yesterday’s sun,
Slung over one shoulder.

To the swimming pool.
Pristine, chlorinated blue
And just us two.

Dad,
Ploughing the water aside,
Moving like a fluid stream train
Over a single black track.

And me,
Completing stuttering laps,
Lying back in the soupy water
And waiting.

On his signal
We would head home
Sitting on uncomfortably damp towels in the car.

Sun-drenched
Cool and powerful.

Summer
Was when I felt it most.
That I wanted
To be just like him.

For Dad

pinkelephant

Joined February 2007

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

Written for Father’s Day

Artwork Comments

  • Michael Douglass
  • davecurtain
  • Pilgrim
  • Michelle422
,
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