Bordered by an old fashioned picture frame
A man, curiously familiar, moustached, astute
With a smiling bride, his eyes aflame
And a brown "The Spy Who Loved Me" suit  

This was the first "real" connection with him
Displayed on my grandparents window shelf
Some how I knew I was missing a limb
Some how I knew I wasn't entirely myself

Patches of my memories dwell in clusters
perhaps I am mentally impaired.
I remember going to Ghost Busters
I remember being really scared.

Shaking inside trying to be brave
ashamed to being frightened of ghouls.
But that film soon became a fave
just as did playing snooker and pool.

I am aware that I have not let him know
that whist every time I have nearly drowned.
An island of him has rose from the flow
and let my two feet again find the ground.

Also, that as I have moulded myself into a man
he has been an integral aspect of my design.
Thanks to him I can have an extraordinary tan
I love a pun, good whisky and being on time.

So lets heartily toast the bygone days
now we can laugh about the happy and sad.
And let's swirl a whisky each others way
Because when all said and done, your my Dad.