My father's fare-welling eyes

When last I looked

on all that was precious to me then,

life before me ever widening, so exciting,

fighting so strongly those inner young man urges …

stay… or… go!

and thus my mind in quite a turmoil reasoned.

 *

‘I’ll go,’ I’d say,

‘No opportunities available here;

nothing really to make me stay.’

Then this thought, conqueror for a while,

eased the struggle, made me smile.

New country, opportunities to make new friends

‘Yes, it’s time to get away,’ I’d say.

 *

Wait a minute now, are you sure?

What of your family?

Winter’s coming and Dad’s not well …

This inner battle surged to and fro,

but I accepted at last the challenge to go.

 *

In some ways that part was easy

with me still wet behind the ears.

So with brother, two elder sisters

and father beside me, I took me leave,

whispering tearfully my choked goodbyes.

 *

The years have passed quickly as they do,

my last goodbye often accusing -

somewhere deep inside my head -

wishing I could relive again

the words I spoke back then:

 *

‘Only five years, Dad.

Just a few years, Dad, I’ll be away.

You know I must go, Dad?’

And his eyes taking their last look of me

so nearly persuaded me to stay.

 *

He knew, of course

our hold on life is so very tenuous,

no guarantees that our mortal plans

will necessarily reach their end …

and so it’s often been since last I looked

into my father’s fare-welling eyes.

 *

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)