Matthew’s at the window
hope leaking from his eyes
he listens for your car exhaust
as another passes by.
What time is it? What time he say?
Mum; he’s climbing up the walls!
lower your expectations love
he might not come at all.
Last week it snowed in Plymouth,
my friends Dad walked to site
12 miles there, 12 miles back
returning late at night.
That’s what heroes are made of
promises kept, not frayed
someone who loves his children through
the ordinary days.
It’s easier now we’re older
you’ve started to get in touch
spouting gimcracks of wisdom
pretending to give a ****.
But I see the holes you made
the look in Mothers eyes
the times she had to bare her teeth
to make sure we survived.
So, let’s just call you Simon
because a real Dad, you know
wouldn’t leave his gorgeous boy
waiting at the window