A Rapturous welcome

1.A Rapturous welcome


I woke up this morning

No tea and toast

Wondered where Dad had gone

Probably shopping, but who knows

Just no sign, none at all.


Put the news on

Purely as a distraction.

Planes have crashed,

Cars have crashed, buses have stopped

The trains keep their usual bad timetable


News off, still no sign of tea or toast

No sign of Dad either, hope he is OK

Go to look, but no sign

Just gone, without a note

Probably just gone shopping


Tune into the news again

Planes just dropped out of the sky

Buildings on fire, cars piled up

Trains have collided

And shops, not unusually, dreadfully understaffed


Feeling confused, I went for a drive

Past my church, no one home

No comfort there then

Where are they when you need them?

Hiding away somewhere under the altar?


Drove past the playground on the way home

The swings were swinging, as they do

The Roundabout slowly spinning

But nobody there, except Mums chatting

Around their empty pushchairs and prams


The nursery schools were empty

Except for the teachers looking on

With a worried frown on their faces

The secondary school was full, however

Just another day, after the riotous bus journeys


Came back home, still no sign of Dad

And he hasn’t even made his bed

Most unusual, and still no tea or toast

And still no note as to where he might be

Oh well, have a fag and wait I guess.


It’s now 24 hours.  I am worried.

The world seems even more shit than ever

And that is saying something.

Still no sign of Dad and his bed is still unmade

Not like him at all


I make it for him, ever considerate

He’ll appreciate it when he comes home

From shopping or wherever he went

But then I realise, he isn’t coming back

He is now with Mum


He is in a nicer place than what remains

We can’t say we were not warned

Can’t say it is a new Revelation

We just need to see what is to come

But I reckon we all know.


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Andy Smyth

Sat 12th Nov 2016 02:15

Cheers Steve/Harry, thanks for even reading my nonsense.

My Dad is 83 and fitter than me and still brings me tea and toast in the morning (we unemployed rise later than his 5am start), so some factual basis there.

I showed him this scribble (I'd hate to call it poetry) and the first thing he said was: why did it take you 24 hours to worry about me?

Made me laugh, but brought me down to earth damn quickly as well. He is a good sounding board!


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Harry O'Neill

Fri 11th Nov 2016 14:53

That last line is a `fitting` finish to the rest of it.

Stephen Boocock

Thu 10th Nov 2016 08:41

Andy. Very moving

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