I grin my stupid grin, noting the green flecks and the hard to get at strands of meat, relishing the deep booth, the just loud enough too loud music, the familiar smile dishing out the platters, the laughter of being the first to the shake and squeeze of the red not quite ketchup between my hands, the almost fit of the dripping burger in my mouth, leaving a lick of a stain on my lower lip and a longer lasting comfort blanket layered in my stomach from that meal and a half, once in a while treat of my family, sandwiched together and perfectly reflected in the wall mirror.

theoneintwelve
longstobecloser
achestobenearer
tothosewho matter
but instead
s   i   t   s    
a    n    a  r   m   s    
l   e   n    g    t    h
l   o    n    g    e    r
f    r    o   m     a   n     y
h    o    p    e     o     f
e    m    b    r    a    c    e.

Fathercraft
has been passed down
from father to father
losing and gaining
at each slow bequeathing -
less heavy-handed there
more soft-hearted here
as each generation rejects
the disciplines of the past.
So much so that I wonder
what's left of the original art
and what we've lost.

This is my food for thought
as I feed my daughter -
crumbled digestive
with mashed banana -
perhaps a favourite of mine
and my father's,
while she grins and chortles
blowing biscuit dust
and spittle bubbles
with absolute child-delight.

Food for thought
as I drink in her smile,
wipe my cheek
and laugh along,
prolonging the rare perfection
of this father moment.

Will the hurdles be high?
Are the footpaths steep?
Will the days be long?
and cause me to weep?

Will you be there too?
Will you have time for me?
Will you let me down
and return by degrees?

Will I fill my shoes?
Can I act my age?
Will I brave the crowds?
Can I seize the day?

The answer is Yes
it has always been so
so get off your ****
it's now time to go.

Poets love metaphor and simile.
We love the extra dimension they bring to a conversation.

Hard brexit or soft brexit.
War of words.
Snail's pace.
Quiet as a mouse.
Embracing change.

But be warned, next time you use a metaphor ask yourself: Is the tail waging the dog? (See what I did there?)

For example:
When you join an argument - do you join a side?
Do you build your argument to withstand the opposition's attacks?
Do you fight to win the arguement, to defeat the opponent's arguement?

Or do you establish common ground? Will you join a journey to reach an agreement together?

Will you end up enemies with a peace treaty that is dependent on peace keepers?
Or will you be fellow travellers, journey companions with a shared objective?
Will you ultimately come to a shared view at the summit that you have reached together?

Metaphors are powerful.

Is your day made up of stolen time?
Do you lose time?
Do you race against time?
Do you try to gain time?
Is time something you seek to possess more of - a finite resource that's to be preserved, stretched and saved as much as possible?

Or is time a stream, a river traveled that brings us to new experience?
Is it a force of nature to be respected and enjoyed?
Are you comfortable simply going with the river's flow? Can you enjoy the ride?
Can you accept the limits of what you control (a small rudder) and what you don't (the long established river and it's ultimate destination)?

Chose your metaphor with care, it may come back to bite you. There I did it again.

I've faced change
and I've found it strange how

change stretches
change races

change strikes me dumb
change leaves me numb

change weighs heavy
change breeds worry

change twists and turns
change burns -

change leaves you standing
leaving you thinking

challenging mediocrity
offering opportunity

flouting comfy rules
removing familiar tools

stripping plans bare
making you scared

- but bringing you hope
clearing the smoke

increasing the pace
clearing some space

sweeping life clean
on to the next screen

- change is a constant
he shrugs off all constraint

he's fearlessly bold
with an irresistible hold

he bucks every trend
not afraid to offend
and he will fast become
your firmest friend.

Welcome change.

Lately
he will simply sit enclosed
focused on another world
somewhere he feels more at home
with a script he and his can own

Later
he will emerge,
shifting focus,
slowly taking notice
adjusting to a slower gravity
reverting to a lesser fluency
but no less forthright
not giving his words away
without a fight
and so we fight.