Ruby

My dad was Seanair to my children, and this poem was inspired by their memories of him.

Seanair

You’re fishing rods and poaching rabbits,

Cigarette smoke keeping midges away.

You’re saucers of chips and lemonade,

Bar stools and pool tables in the pub.

You’re clicking heels and fishing caps,

A tight hold of hands at every road.

You’re a silent presence, constant and watching, a man of few words as years go by.

You’re a simple smile, a voice never heard, but once to reprimand grandson fighting granddaughter.

You’re a hand to hold, a look in apology,

when grandchildren need to take over your care.

You’re gone, a box carried by grandsons, Tennent’s and glasses tucked inside.

You’re memories and photographs, stories and laughs all lovingly shared.