At a hospital bedside a father breathes his last and the son reflects on their troubled relationship.

The Silent Bellow

 

Swinging in arms, His Nibs on the
High Seas.

Spinning armchair and lime green
stretch cover,

a make-do plaything. He falls to his
knees;

rough nylon is warm stubble to his
cheek,

comforted by mum, the threatened
lover.

Launching a clay pigeon, this ousted
boy,

falling in the mist, whole, no more
to speak.

Dull thud of hand recalls the
soaring joy.

 

Shopping and blissful, the intimate
band.

The prodigal knows, but fears to
draw near.

He drives twenty years, the car park
is bare.

Bewildered at haste, the circle now
stands.

A lonely tear is the biggest of
hints.

The smile. A last whoop for the
Regal Prince!

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