A poem I started in 2010 and finished yesterday…
My Father’s Crashes
We could tell by the engine
When my fatherâ€™s truck was home.
The diesel engine would vibrate
The windows as he reversed in.
My mother would boil the kettle at 5pm
Knowing he would arrive.
Three times in five years he did not
Arrive on time.
One time back-ended by a Lotus
That shattered like an Xmas bauble.
He spent half an hour prising glass fibre shards
From the wheel arch.
Another time he and my Uncle John
Arrived ashen faced.
Drank tea before they talked.
Both cheated death as a car span toward them.
Finally he retired and bought a smaller van
But grew tired of working then grew tired
As the cancer ate away his stomach.
My mother made tea at five pm every day just the same.
Until one day he didnâ€™t make it.