A collection of words, written on the beach in North Norfolk about my dad, David Hawke. My Papa xx
I used to listen at night
Tucked up in bed, with the Eider down
Dire straits on the stereo
salt smoke appearing in the bedroom
Cigars; a cacaphony of noise
That meant my parents were having fun.
Love
It brought me love,
the sweetest warmth,
knowing they were there having
fun x
Once i sat upon his knee. in the night
He sang Elvis Presley to me
His love
meant all.
x
Then he stopped
+ i fell
He closed His Heart
or did I?
.
.
.
.
We stopped talking about what we loved.
I grew too big for his knee
Life’s lessons became harder
Transparent
You disappeared
these words somehow evoke for me the feeling of true love
the places you are smashed to smitherines by something so simple as love
They are balm for my soft aching heart
Thank You x
image: Christiane Teston unsplash
