Rain is spitting from a sky
burning in that lunchtime sunshine
my father has eyes only for the waters,
woolly hat, greying coat,
fumbling with fishing tacks
his childhood shared, spreading
to the family he calls his own
mother huddles beside the trees,
the way home on her mind
Mcdonald’s or KFC?
I bask in this ordinary
give no fuck to all lost and leaving
simply listen closely, like a schoolchild
to these sounds,
everlasting
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