Time Passes You By

My dad wore a Fair Isle pullover, smoked a pipe,
I miss him, the wavy hair, perhaps I could find him on skype,
mother had the Peter Pan collar and court shoes,
we used to go out and stand at the cinema in queues.

Dad did his best for me, the wayward prodigal son,
but when I returned from world travels, he was gone,
taught me to be neat, collar and brilliantined hair,
shiny shoes, now I was ready to know that he'd care.

Of course, we fought, but at Xmas I loved the things he bought,
the sweets, Turkish delight, mother drinking port,
indoor fireworks left a blue fug over the dining table,
it was cold, we huddled and mother dug out the fur sable.

He never met my beautiful wife, married in blue,
but to be sure, he would love her the same as I do.