#dad died

certainly we talked of bananas and laughed about ida

best friends do those things and

more for each other

when did those moments stop

missing you more later

I hated the colour yellow,

And you’d wear it,

Every Sunday,

To church.

We all made comments,

And you shrugged

And smiled,

But we knew

You did it for the fun.

But now

I miss it,

The irony of this moment,

When yellow is all gone

And I miss it.

Things will always be

Less bright without it,

Without you, dad,

And though you taught me irony,

I did not ever consider

A world without

My least favourite colour

My mother’s dress

Dries on the washing line,

Sad and grey

By funeral’s design.

My father’s flowers

Were white and yellow,

He was mostly a jovial

And witty fellow.

The very best parts

Of both of them

Are found in the four of us

A comfort then.

We miss you dad

Though you are gone,

And your body ashes,

The man who taught

Me wit

Is gone,

And I will keep

His lessons in a box,

And use it,

We take care

Of our bodies

While the rest is sick

With sadness.

I am deep inside myself,

Lost,

Will I find my way

To the surface?

Will I get back

After I say

It was chaos,

Then nothing;

Just a dark house

Empty of voices,

Empty of light,