The Visit

My father came to see me from long time past,
memories fade, frozen forever but pictures last;
a handsome man with hat and gloves, tailor made,
to be expected, mum and dad were in the trade.

I wondered if someone would look at my photo,
from so many years before with curly hair to go;
he asked how I was getting on, he knew already,
that my itinerant life had been far from steady.

He said that; 'I did my best for you son, you know
that and look at all the things you went and done,'
I grimaced with no place to hide, 'So sorry dad,
but I really don't think that I'm quite that bad.'

We had a bit of a hug, remembered scent of Brilliantine,
there was just no time left to ask how he had been.