My father -given the nickname Togger during his time in the Auxiliary Fire Service during WW2, a name that stuck with him for the rest of his life – was born in 1906 and died on June 17th, 1984.
SETTING SAIL
Wind troubles the water,
tangles and untangles the reeds;
a lone swan slides past, unperturbed.
I came here with my father
to sail the yacht he’d crafted
lovingly all summer;
a gift on my winter birthday.
The wind carried it proudly
to the centre and left it there,
marooned.
I used to see him, my father,
each time I looked in the mirror –
loving, reproachful, regret in his eyes.
Now all I see is my own face
staring back at me;
uncertain, anxious -
waiting for the right wind.
Poem fron On Balance, Shoestring Press, 2083
So poignant, so simple. So much feeling in that one line, that he’d spent all summer lovingly crafting the yacht for you… Thank you for posting that beautiful poem!
Thank you, Nikki !