In Memory of a fab dad

Twenty five years
tomorrow,
a quarter of a century but
dad’s been there
behind me
watching out for me,
it never seems to me
that he’s not here,
Woodbines and a pint of beer,
the scent still lingers
fingers on my shoulder
guiding me and
I got older
suddenly by
a
quarter of a century.

© 2015, John Smallshaw.