When I throw
a nasty little thing like ego out
by my invouluntary
fingers
I worry people
just think I'm making
crazy hand shapes
in the air;
Nar,
these fantastic digits carry care.

Today,
on paper,
we've toured
a football ground,
but that description
neglects our fantastic found
displayed
in
leaping bound;
it's whenever I'm with you Dad,
it's whenever you're around.

You unforcefully cram
your particles
into every time
of loveliness,
seldom rocked
by
the
tick
tock;
minutes are just moments
that bring
all
your
joy.

We said a big farewell to you
on a sunny day,

it was sad but perfect
in nearly every single way,

inevitably the only thing  missing under the clear sky of blue

was the world you held

in all of amazing you.

Auntie Viv,
vividly
you’ll always be.

You rumble gently,
slightly shifting
what was ground,
my feet on it, next to yours,
we tour debris of before,
no looking down at dust,
detritus, not now, not for us,
no time at this time,
for us.

So I wake up & think,
"Ohh, a message on Whatsapp,
I'll check that baby later,
for that nourish I will cater,
hmm outside it looks mild,
take your time Si, punctuality is the last reserve of the boring, said Oscar Wilde.
But you don't want to get the "where have you been" glare & the "I've been sat here for ages" stare."
So I gather my sleepy head with all my power,
get my work game on & hit the shower.
As I cleanse my skin layer by layer I ponder,
"hmm, have I got enough juice in my MP3 player to see me through on the 192?"
I scrub quickly in a ******* sigh,
"oh oh oh fuckkkkk! Si, you've got shower gel in your eye!"
All my thoughts of enough walking music to hurl me up the road are lost in my optic feeling like it's going to explode.
"It hurts! It hurts! ******* vanilla & raspberry,
is the cyclopitic pain really necessary?".
I now don't have time for thoughts of on time hurry
if I'm going blind or not is now my greatest worry.
The stupid anxieties vanish
in minutes of strife,
like they do in real life,
I don't think I'll care that I haven't budgeted for pre payday weekend beer if I get a call saying
you're not here,
& from what I know you disappear.
Not to dwell on what grief does loom,
you & me right now sail through the future gloom;
you're the best of the best
never stop,
I love you
I love you
I love you lots.
This soapy grip on my eye starts to ease,
anxious not
in the July breeze.