Dec. 28, 2017


Most days he’d rise
Before the dawn
And sit and have a smoke
Enjoying the wee hours in peace
before the others woke.

His coffee always ended up
Half empty or half full the cup,
Never did he finish it ~
His thoughts I’m sure adrift,
Past pain and worries he would sift.

Perhaps he thought of me,
So many miles away,
Or maybe not,
As I’d often thought,
He left, commitment gone astray..

The times when I would visit
I’d rise early as well,
And sit with him
On that back porch,
With Charlie the seagull
Who’d perch and wisely watch

A daughter and her dad
All forgiven and forgotten ~
Starting a new slate,
From scratch.

Kira Braun, 2017