skimming stones,
into a dirty english sea,
bieng my big strong dad,
you would always beat me,
by a skim or two,
you were the Atlas of my world,
and i adored you.
watching me proudly.
playing football on a cold winters day,
i was rubbish,
yet always would you say,
great game son,
holding me tight,
soothing the nightmares frights,
singing me songs your dad sung to you,
the way great dads always do.
holding me hand, high up on the mountain side,
your strong reassuring grip
your face smoothed with pride.
these are the memories i treasure,
i will keep them with me forever,
these are the times when the family was one,
and you was daddy and i was son,
so simple it was back then,
i do love you dad,
but dark demons,
have built high thorny walls,
and neither of us can hear our calls,
of forgivness