For My Dad

For My Dad

Alexander George Smith

(20 July 1926 - 19 December 2011)

In every pocket I found a comb and pen

A cleanly folded handkerchief

I felt that I had intruded in your world

A world where I was just a thief

I touched your things, they touched me back

Paid a visit, they said it’s for research

A dozen tied black plastic bags

The culmination of those years that I besmirch

It may do some good but it still hurts and makes me sad

They took your things away

You never lived with such sobriety

I fear that I have got those genes

And I have passed them on, unfortunately

But I’m not too sure what this all means

I got so drunk today but nothing went away

Try to put things into words but words are weak at times like these

When your life’s jigsaw has lost some pieces

You can’t bottle it, you’ve got to pour it out

Say what’s on your mind

But all you really want is a little more time

In the garden I remembered you at work

When as a child, days seemed so long

I thought I heard your voice in honeysuckle breeze

Then like the scent it was gone

Under that summer sky, I finally said goodbye