of family celebrating together
no ordinary walking stick
handmade by my father
he used it in his later years
mother gave it to me
when he died
he carved and varnished this piece of wood....
a former piece of driftwood that he found on the beach
I keep this stick by the front door in the entry hall beside the Westminster clock
it rarely gets moved...I only spied it this morning when looking for Pepper.
Dad always put an orange in the toe of our Christmas stockings
during the Great Depression oranges were like gold...
you were here...
I see you in the light
and I can almost feel you
in this stick that you carved
If only you could be here in
our Humble Bungalow again
especially at Christmas
when we gather to celebrate
and honour our simple family
and partake of turkey and trimmings
pull crackers, wear hats and hold hands
secure in the knowlege that love lives here
but as this tear drops I know that it cannot be
another holiday will pass without you
and I will miss you.