Stories Of You Poem by jane solanrobertson

I stand rigid
Try to contain this grief
That threatens like a volcano
To spew its molten guts.
Shadows around me bow their heads in solemn thought
Smiling now and then
At the vicar's second-hand stories of you.
Mine, I'll keep here inside,
Not for sharing:
That special hug at the garden gate-
You were ruggedly handsome,
Like Bogart.
Showing your feelings was n't the done thing in your day, Dad
But one lonely Christmas morning
You were my only caller.
A New Man before your time!
Dad
I have looked for your brown eyes
In every lover.
I will miss you
Domino playing
Potato peeling
Money lending
Peacemaking
Joking shouting
Sunday drinking
Gentleman and
Fan of Frank Sinatra
Man of few words
Well-hidden feelings
Proud
Chauvinistic
And shy.

The night before we buried you
The ironing board you bought me fell apart.
So did I.