This Page

Somewhere in the leaves of the pages in this notebook,

There must be some scrawl about you, that deserves a second look,

I saw you skimming over pages of untidy handwriting,

Missing every other word and message, so I printed you this book.

 

I know your eyesight isn’t all that good, but I can’t read it either,

There’s too many words crossed out, and occasional squashed spiders.

 

I’ll begin writing about you on page one hundred and nine,

You know our lives together have not been that perfect all the time,

But I love you sweet mother and I love you, dear old dad,

I’d like to thank you for the years we’ve spent driving each other mad.

 

Having a dad playing in bands always seemed so cool,

It was something to brag about to the other kids at school.

 

Though you cannot sing well and always played in standard tune,

I forgive every strained note, in your soundproofed music room,

And who am I to judge, I was raised on great music,

I tried to play guitar, I gave it up and I blew it.

 

Having a mother as beautiful as you,

I know where I got my looks from the gene pool.

 

You made all my costumes to dress up for school plays,

You’d pick me up when I fell, fix my knees that were grazed,

A mother’s magic kiss, to make the pain go away,

Wipe away the tears and send me back out to play.

 

Playing games of cards, laughing telling jokes,

A holiday highlight, weak Bacardi and coke.

 

Dad, you used to bury my body in the sand,

Thank you for leaving my face out in the sunny weather!

Exploring rock-pools, was a wild adventure,

Like drifting out to sea on a lilo together.

 

Dad taught me how to let things wash over me, keep the peace,

And deny true emotions and bitterly retreat.

 

He did something bad, and I won’t lie,

It broke my heart,

I still like to deny that it happened,

And if I’d had a pound coin every time I strayed,

In life,

I’d be a train wreck and a millionaire tonight.

 

Mother taught me how to gossip, and,

How I shouldn’t believe all I hear.

 

In our disagreements, conversations down the telephone,

I’ve never known loneliness like when she hangs up the phone,

Where would I be if she didn’t answer my call back,

I can barely imagine,

Living on the outside of her mind for any length of time,

Hope my mother’s love doesn’t switch off anytime soon.

 

Must have written a thousand apology letters over the years,

I haven’t sent one yet.

 

Mother and father you’ve been tearing your hearts out,

Beating them in my direction,

Most the time I was too blind to see,

You were falling apart over me,

The psychoanalyst said I came from a dysfunctional family,

I thought isn’t everybody; I was never neglected in my life.

 

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