‘Sitting with daddy’ by Angie Butler
My father died 39 year ago; he is my constant companion and helps me in nearly every decision I make. I was a founder member of The Penzance Literary Festival, I write every day. As a teacher I wrote and taught creative writing in Devon and Cornwall, and at a school in Kenya. My poetry has been Pick of the Week on Radio 4 and my book Bodelva performed with The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and six hundred children for the 10th anniversary celebrations of The Eden Project. I was a winner in the Exmoor Dark Skies poetry competition. I belong to two local poetry groups and submit to two poetry magazines and have my poems published regularly. A collection of my poems ‘Moonfall,’ with Moira Andrew, is available on Amazon.
We are here discussing life,
a moment to be together,
to mull things over,
get to grips with any problems
so I can get his advice.
His years of training, experience and wisdom,
happily passed on to me. I love it,
although others fear for me and let me know,
honestly, he’s the only one who understands.
Often hours go by, and he’s there,
sorting stuff out for me, The more we talk,
the more I recognise how like him I have become.
We speak the same language, him and me.
I know he’s proud of me, as I am of him.
We’re sitting here now, with his tea pot reflecting
our lives in its metal surface.
His pen scribbles across the page and sets out solutions,
draws plans, explains, slowly, patiently
I don’t know what I’d do without him.
But now, as we write together and drink tea,
I feel my vision blur and pause, am I frightened?
Not any more,
I drain my cup.
I miss him.