A father leaning
A son hanging
on a gate overlooking farmland
wrapped against the winter chill
...
In a once upon a time state of the art box
in my segment of the dollhouse
magnolia blossoms peel away
and leaving stigmata on the aging husk
...
Picture Postcard
A father leaning
A son hanging
on a gate overlooking farmland
wrapped against the winter chill
Weak sunlight
lending a golden photographic sheen
to the stripped fields
framed
by skeletal hedgerows
It could be any year
Any century
The father's hand outstretched
Pointing
No encompassing
Son this will all be yours one day
I leant against this gate with my father
as he leant against it with his before him
Though maybe it was a different gate
he says laughing
But seriously
you will lean here with your son one day
This is someone else's story
I feel that we're close
You and I
Me leaning
You hanging
Though I have fond memories
of the land I grew up on
it was never destined for me to work
and I can't hand it down to you
It will all be sold soon
Your grandfather and I don't get on so well
His father disinherited him
Your mother left me
and like my father
I was to blame
What have I ever given you?
A broken home
A life in front of the TV
behind council estate walls
not of my choosing
because I forfeited my right to be with you
Inconsistency and indiscipline
Images of my own violence
and perhaps an inherited mental illness
What have I got to leave you?
If nothing else
know that I love you
and that I will fight for you