What would you make of me dear Dad,
if we could share a cup of tea
and watch the sail boats work the breeze
devoid of other company?
As I pour a stronger brew, look
into your long dead eyes, would you
linger there with me? Stay a while,
smile back and say, "I love you girl
no matter what." Or would you turn
to me and say "this time my dear
you've lost the plot?'
I'm older now than you were then.
How strange it seems to me in dreams
we meet and both of us are old.
How warm you are when you break through.
How cold I feel, your absence felt.
Yet when you pierce that flimsy veil
the freeze soon thaws, the ice soon melts
and I again a child of ten,
recall with glee the laughter when
stories dipped in sugar water
never end in tears or slaughter.