Present Imperfect

Gazes my way, with those engaging,
‘take me for a walk, please’, hazel eyes,
even though his tired, old legs
won’t carry him much further.

He still misses him, I sense...even
after all these years, and her, of course;
get the feeling I’m but second best.

Walking in the park – let him off
his leash. He pads around for a bit;
lays down, tongue hanging out,
thankful for a rest.

I sit, for a while, by the playground –
watch children on the swings, full
of, “Push me, Daddy, high!”
Oh, but he did!

Her hand-smocked pinafore-dress,
billows in the breeze like a blue,
box-kite; east becomes west,
south becomes north; compass points
conjoin in her head.

“Mummy, where do babies come from...
and when do I start school? And, why
did Daddy go away, and how many
light years to heaven?”

When I get home, I give her a call,
just to hear her voice. ‘Sorry – Lois
can’t come to the phone...’

“As many as from here to there...”
my message, after the tone.