. Today walking around town I met Alfred, my father, the pianist
he had gone very old his alpaca jacket was now too big for him.
Time is a cruel master he had arthritis in his hands could not play
Anymore, except in summers when he played the piano for the old.
at homes were where the washed-up of stream of life rested
before crossing the river Styx, he could have moved into a home
but preferred to rent a little room in town.
Alfred, my father, the pianist was often cold he could only switch
on the heating for a short time in the evening, and I remembered
a time when I followed him around town saw him cross the street
And traffic stopped when I did that I was shouted at; once I fell over
a pollard he helped me up and said: I'm not your father but since
you need on I can be one, and the strange thing was he only showed
up when I was alone. In a shimmer of tears, I saw him disappear
I knew I was not going to see Alfred, my father, again.