2010/05/31 Miss Him Poem by Margaret Alice

My father is going far away to an
inaccessible place near Zimbabwe,
I shall no longer be able to pop in
and check on him, shall be unable to
share and see the light-hearted mirth
of the baboon’s bully-beef tin

Not able to watch André Rieu DVD’s
while gossiping about family, not able
hear him recalling Grandma Alice
nostalgically, recounting his youth when
he knew the local Mafia intimately, I had
better make a list of final questions

I will record his answers before he
leaves - about his memories of our
childhood and his attempts to create
a better life for all of us, compare his
varying versions of recent history ac-
cording to mood, context and place

I am going to miss him, sharing his
boyish enthusiasm for toys and fine
porcelain, drinking from a delicate
cup is like kissing a beautiful girl
he says with a wink – Oh, I am going
to miss him...