i stood on the end of the pier with my father
said “how bout a swim?” - he didn’t reply
my sister suggested a little persuasion
for once in his life, seemed unusually shy
prodded and shook him, but nothing would move him
i felt his delight at the trouble and strife
the harder i pushed him the more he resisted
he finally surrendered to a swiss army knife
my fathers ashes scattered all around me
all the world’s problems we solved in his kitchen
the stories, some true, though most were made up
he clung like a dog with a bone to his freedom
and kept finding drops when he’d emptied his cup
the twelve string guitar for my twenty first birthday
the thousands of times he wound up in the rough
the terrible jokes, with the forgotten endings
when one was too many and ten not enough
my father’s ashes are scattered all around me
we stood on the end of the pier with our father
each took a handful to cast on the breeze
a westerly wind was waiting to claim him
it suddenly swung round one eighty degrees
he swirled and then hovered, what seemed like forever
like the pause in a joke, before they sell you the line
then swept through my hair, up my nose, in my eyes
ran circles around us one final time
my father’s ashes are scattered all around me
the laughter, the love, the joys and the sadness
ultimatums, the losses, the strains
the fights and forgiveness, the walks and discussions
sickness and strength and the odd growing pains
the poems, the letters, advice and reflections
the pleasure we found in cheap bottles of red
the loyalty and patience, pig headed opinions
the wisdom to know when enough had been said