YOU ARE NOT MY DAD 
 
 

Mewling child a beckoning hand
A lap gives warmth and comfort
Beard to tug kisses to get
Curl into the warmth
Coal flickers in open fire 
Cold South wind howls 
Wife brings dinner
Bottle for her
Kiss for me
Lays table in lounge
Stereo plays music
Domestic Bliss

Days work in overalls forgotten
Ships and boats on slipways a memory
Tomorrow they will be there
Tonight we eat drink and play the poor man's opera
Years go by warmer temperature beckons afar
Air flights and strange crowds
Warmer nights barbecues at midnight
Ships and boats on slipways for tomorrow

Separation looming 
Poor man's opera no more
Laughing still 
Cuddles and swimming lessons
Not enough to keep me
Motorbikes need a rider 
Miles need to be ridden 
Youth needs to be lived
I ride away

Years pass 
Continents away
Letters are written 
Promises made afresh
Surprise and flurries of return mail
Years go by more letters none returned
Phone calls now
She has her first 'real boyfriend'
Tells me 
"You are not my Dad 
You are my Father"
 

Ewan Elliott
COPYRIGHT
May, 1998

RISING AND FALLING     Late at night with you in my arms     Waiting for sleep to claim you     To pull the blinds over your eyes     To quieten the cries that rose and fell     Like music but not here maybe     But we are and it's been hours     Of holding you     Waiting for sleep to claim you.      Ewan Elliott

 

     ILLUMINATION
 

  Blinding light from dusty letters unearthed
  From caverns kept locked and under the bed
  A huge pile of memories, I didn't have
  She was 8 years old, I wasn't there

  A cheeky grin glows through her letters
  Drawing me closer to her now
  I can feel a brush against my cheek
  As a butterfly wings past my mind

  Now 20 something growing up in a faraway land
  Bearing her own smelly little creeps
  Handing her generation on to them
  She only had it for a short time
  But still laughing and still winning
  Through many days and nights of trial.
 

  Ewan Elliott