Poem: Benjamin

baby sitting on man s shoulder

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Benjamin is the younger son
and I am your youngest.
The little things meant the most:
A bike trip to collect samphire from the marsh.
We saw Boston Stump rising from the mists,
perpendicular to that great horizon
in a silence broken only
by a lone redshank’s cry.
Years later when you gave me that last look;
just a glance which said so much –
that you didn’t want me to go.
None of us want to go, or even know when
but I’m sure you had an inkling
you’d soon leave this succession of goodbyes

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Tanka: Father

baby child father fingers

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Though I’ve doubted you
you have been patient with me
I sense the small voice
the calm disguising your care
We are steps along the way

copyright Francis Barker 2019