The Watch.

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

My Father would rather walk for miles
To catch his children's smiles.
And if he ever missed he kissed us all.
My Father played football and Ludo too
I think that that's what Fathers do.
And I, his son,the apple of his Father's eye
Now old myself
Sit back and sigh
I wish I'd loved him more and told him so
But Fathers always seem to know..
..their children well.
I would sell everything I own
To have my Father back at home e'en for a day
That's not to say we didn't fight
when I stayed playing out at night
or truanted from daily school.
But Father was not such a fool
as to curtail the wonderment of growing up
I drink a cup of cheer, wish that Dad was here,
check my watch
And go to sleep.