I sometimes find my Dad sitting next to me in my car

Not exactly him but some likeness, a vision from afar.

I can’t exactly see him clear

But either way it’s nice to have him near.

 

I sometimes find myself talking to my Dad,

Sitting next to me, in my car

It’s good to talk after all these years and I suppose he’s not really there

But it feels so good, so I don’t really care.

 

I sometimes find my Dad talking to me in my car

Maybe it’s madness, maybe it’s just a dream

Or maybe it’s his spirit, coming through from the other side.

Then again it’s a lovely car; perhaps he just likes the ride . .