Dad – A Poem by Adam Wyeth

Dad

 

I’ll always remember those Sunday drives home.

How a blackening silence came over us

with the night. I’d look back at the road

we set out on when our weekend had begun:

 

singing songs, stopping at petrol stations

in the back of beyond, turning off the beaten

track and finding a pub for lunch –

with swings and climbing frames to play on.

 

But all that was fading fast, as signs marked

the dwindling miles, oncoming headlights

dazzled us, the final catseyes blinked past

and the road emptied – losing its nerve

 

as we curved off the motorway. Then the real

darkness set in – and the chill of parting

made me numb. I’d run upstairs to my room

without a word spoken, and out the corner

 

of my window watch your silver Citroen slip

into the night; a final sliver of light then total eclipse.

Another week of staring into space in classrooms,

waiting for our next outing all together. Save mum.

 

From Adam Wyeth’s forthcoming poetry collection, Silent Music.

 

Adam Wyeth will be launching his book with a wine reception tomorrow, Saturday 19th February, at 2pm FREE event, all welcome.


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